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GRAJN1 1 li MOlN i r±L i , 

1 i\!i\v flAMroninli IMuAZlili!,, 

p my 


1 i Mtofy, fjiograpl\y, Literature ai\d B tate 1 rogrej^. 






Evans & SiiEupisii, Phixtsrs. 



"^ 693281 


A Correction, .... 
A Garden— Laura Garland Can*, . 
-Ali Fair iu Love" — Henrietta E. 

Page, ...... 

Ancestry of Gen. J. A. Garfield— 

L. P. bodge 

An [nvitation — Mary EL Wheeler, 
An Old English Historian— Prof. E. 

[). Sanborn, ll. d 

An Old-Time Courtship — Fred My- 

lon Colby 

A Short Sketch of Manchester— 


A Slight Mistake in the History of 

New Hampshire, 
A Song of the Hour— L. I?. H. C. 
A Trip to Cardigan — Elifiha Payne 

~Ex-Gov. Walter Harriman, . 
Autumn — Fannie Huntington Run- 

iienelit of Clergy— -Hoik J. E. Sar- 
gent. LL. D. .... 
Beyond — Henrietta E. Page, 
Bibliography of New Hampshire — 

J. X. McClintoek, . ... 
Book Notices, .... 

Canterbury — I. X. McClintoek, . 
Cant. Robert Xeal, Senior, and His 

Wife, Margaret Lear Xeal — Hon. 

Thomas L. Tulloek, . 
Centennial Address at Northfleld— 

Prof. Lucian Hunt. . 
Centre Harbor — Isaac W. Hammond, 
Chandler Genealogy— D. F. Secomb, 
Chester — Benjamin Chase. . 
Cloud-Land — Lizzie Linwood, 
Dartmouth College— Rev. S. C. 
Dead— Laura Garland Carr, . 
I) iscendants of Thomas Whittier in 

New Hampshire — Lev. W. F. 


Diary of Capt. Peter Kimball in 

1776 — Charles Carieton Collin. . 
Diary of Rev. Timothy Walker, of 

Concord. X. II.. for 'the vear L7S0 

—.Joseph B. Walker. . " . 
Dunbarton— Past and Present— J. 

*'■ Connor 

f-arlv Dawn— Addison F. Browne, 
taster— LWa C. Tulloek, . 
hn«nared— Helen Mar, , 
' I j ib Parker, Esq, 
Praneonia Iron Mine, . 
Gambetta-^-G. W. Patterson, 
Gilsuin— Silvauus Hay ward, 

istorical Address— Rev. F. D. Ayer, 
History of Antrim, 
Hon. George Byron Chandler— 

J. N. McClintoek, . 
Hymn— K. j. j; .... 
























History of Music in the First Con- 
gregational Society, Concord, X. 
1L— Dr. YV. G. Carter, . . 320 
History of the First Congregational 
Sunday-School, Concord. X. H. — 
John C. Thorn; . . . . 313 
1 Li story of the Four Meeting- Houses 
of the First Congregational 
Society in Concord— J. B. Walker, 210 

. * 272 

Holderness and the Livermores — 

Fred Myron Colby, . . . 175 
Hon. Asa Fowler— Editor, . . 1 

lion. Charles II. Bell — John Temp- 

leton 400 

Hon. Dexter Richard?— Joseph W. 

Parmelee, SO 

Hon. Frank Jones— II. H. Metcalf, 211 
Hon. George Washington Nesmith 

—J. X. McClintoek, . . . 250 
Hon. Hosea W. Parker— H. H Met- 
calf 475 

Hon. John Kimball— J. X. McClin- 
toek 435 

Hon. Nathaniel White— J. X. Mc- 
Clintoek 49 

Hon. Phinehas Adams — Arthur P. 

Dodge 307 

Hon. Richard Bradley— Joseph B, 

/Walker 395 

H/m. William Henry Haile— D., . 485 
Hotels of Xew Hampshire, . . 4G7 
How thev Built a Meeting-House in 

Old Times— Charles A. Downs, 323 
Ilymu— George Kent, . . . 210 
Increase my Faith— Henrietta E. 

Page, 31 

In the Orchard — Laura Garland 

Carr, 310 

It Plains — Laura Garland Carr, . 117 
Journal of Abbe Robin. Chaplain of 
Count RoehambeaiPs Army, Relat- 
ing to the Revolution — Hon. 
George W. Nesmith, ll. i>., . 42 i- 
Kearsargc — M. J. Messer, . . 53 

Lake Village— O. W. Goss, . . 487 
Letter of .lames Madison to Gen. 
John Stark, and his Answer — Geo. 
W. Nesmith, .... 50G 
Lieut. -Governor David Dunbar's 

Connections — Rev. A. II. Quint, 203 

Londonderry, . . . . 125 

Bartlett, d. d., ll. d., . , 149 

Madrigal— William C. Sturoc, . 380 

Major Frank — Samuel C. Eastman, 

Esq 32. 81. 112, 143 

Mary Woodweli— Ex-Gov. Walter 

Harriman 233 

Mary Teviotdale; or Athyne's Heir. 
—William C. Sturoc, Esq., . 113 


Mines and Mining at Surry Moun- 

Slavery in New Hampshire in the 

tain— L. P. Dodge, m. e., . 


Olden Time — Isaac VV. Hammond, 


Mines in the Vicinity of Lisbon, . 


Sonnet— Hon. E. D. Rand. . 


Miranda Tullock 


The Bells of Bethlehem—James T. 

Nathaniel Peabody Rogers — Parker 



Pillsbury. Esq 


The Birl hplace of a President — Fred 

New Hampshire Men in Michigan- 

Myron Colby, .... 


No. 1— Mary M. Culver, . ' . 


The Country Boy— George Bancroft 

Obituary, '..... 


Griffith, . 


Pastors of the First Congregational 

The Crime of Isaac Dob-, and his 

Church, Concord, X. 11.,'. 


Punishment— W. A. Wallace . 


Paymaster Thomas L. Tullock, Jr.. 

The Dartmouth Cavalry— John 

1'. S. Xavv — lion. Thomas L. 

Scales, ...... 


Tullock, .*.... 


The Fourth New Hampshire Turn- 

Pleasant Pond — Geo. W. Browne, 


pike— »Tohn M. Shirley, 219, 291, 


Poem— Mood v Currier, 




Prof. David Crosby— Wm, 0. 

The Governor Wcare Estate— Fred 



Myron Colby, .... 


Prof. Hiram Orcutt, a. m., ., 


The Xauie and Family of Tulloch — 

Query— -F. M. Steele, . . • . 


Thomas 1... Tullock, . 


Roinmiseenees — Joseph W. Parmc- 

The Keene Raid 




The Locomotive Song— George 

Reminiscences of Distinguished 



Men— George Bancroft Griffith, 


The Minstrel's Curse— F. W. Lane, 


Reminiscences of Daniel Webster, 

ThePemigewasset — A Reminiscence 

No. 3— Hon. George W. XVsinith, 


— L. W.Dodge 


Removal of Judges— lion. Geo. W. 

The Ring— F. W. Lane. 


Nesmith. . 


The Story of a New Hampshire 

Rev. Leander S. Coan — T. X. Me- 

Chi— Mary Dwinnell CheUis, . 




The Tories of 17(10 and 1770 — Fred- 

Richai-d Tuff, .... 


erick A. Briggs 


Rev. Silas Ketchum — Darwin C. 

The Tria.ngtilation of New Hamp- 

Blauchard, ..... 


shire — Prof. E. T. Quimby, 


Record of Births and Marriages in 

The World's First, Ocean Steamer — 

tli". Town of Canterbury, 391, 431 


Frances Elizabeth Gookin, 

•j / -i 

Something About .Mario w — George 

To a Cigar Stump, 


Bancroft Griffith, 


To My Wife, 


Scripture and Evolution — Prof. E. 

Two Celebrated Scotch-Irish School- 

D. Sanborn, li>. i>., . 


Masters— Hon. George W. Nesmith 

. 333 

Skrtch of Koene 


Wonnahincet's Last Visit to the 

Something About, the Early History 

Penacooks— Mary 11. Wheeler, 


of Candia — F. F>. Eaton. . 


T T3L E 




Vol. IV. 

OCTOBER, 1880, 

No. 1. 

//cW. ^S>/ FOWLER. 


The origin of the name and the an- 

family of Fowler in 
never been ascertained. 

tiquity of the 
England have 
It is probable, from the large number 
of families of that name known to have 
existed in various sections of that 
country early in the sixteenth century, 
and the high standing of some of them,, 
that the name was adopted soon after 
surnames came to be used. Edward 
Fowler, eldest son and heir of Sir Rich- 
ard Q. Fowler, is said to have enter- 
tained Queen Catharine of Arragon at 
his Manor, near Buckingham, in Sep- 
tember, 15 14. Froude in his History of 
England, Vol. V. pp. 129 and 151, men- 
tions John Fowler, a member in 1547 
of the household of King Edward VI, 
who was so influential with that young 
monarch that he was employed by Lord 
Seymour to secure the royal assent to 
his contemplated marriage with the 
Princess, afterwards Queen, Elizabeth. 
and, subsequently, the royal approval 
of his already secretly accomplished 
marriage with Catharine Parr, widow of 
Henry VIII. Chistopher Fowler, an 
English clergyman, born in 161 :i, left 
the established church in 1641 and 
joined the Presbyterians, among vvh )m 
he became eminent, and died in 1676. 
John Fowler, a learned printer, born in 
Bristol, removed his press to Antwerp 
more effectually to aid the Catholics, 
and died in j 5 79. Edward Fowler, 
born at YVesterleigh in 1632, was distin- 

guished as a divine, published a dis- 
course on the design of Christianity in 
1676, which Bunyan attacked, and 
another on Christian Libert)' in 16S0; 
was made bishop of Gloucester in 169 1, 
and died in 1714. William Fowler, 
barn about 1560 — died in 1614 — was 
one of the poets that frequented the 
Court of James VI whose works have 
been preserved. He was a lawyer and 
clergyman, as well as a poet. 

The Fowlers in this country, now 
quite numerous, as their namesakes were 
in England three centuries ago, and are 
still more so at the present day, sprang 
from several different pioneer ancestors 
who emigrated to America from various 
parts of England at different periods, 
and, so far as known, were in no way 
related to each other. The subject of 
this sketch is of the sixth generation in 
lineal descent from one of the founders 
of New England, the common ancestor 
of the great majority of the Fowlers in 
Massachusetts, and of most, if not all, 
of those in Maine, New Hampshire 
and Vermont.* 

Philip Fowler, senior, born about 
1590, in the ancient town of Marl- 
borough, in the county of Wiltshire, 
England, where no less than five fami- 

*For :t sketch of the anee-a 
we arc greatly indebted to M 
SKY, L~'|.. of >:i!c:n, Mass., 
niii-i! -"■■ £,vueulogv of v le - ; 

preparing •"' piuuicii 
wicii Family of Fow 

.' Fowler 
. Sim K- 
rhe ad- 
\ ivho is 
, I. 


lies of Fowlers are shown b\ the records 

to have been living contemporaneously 
early in the 17th century, came from 
th( nee with his family, to Massachusetts 
in 1634, in the ship l< Mary and John" 
of London, having taken the oath of 
allegiance and supremacy to qualify him 
as a passenger at Southampton on the 
24th of March, lie must have em- 
barked in February, since by an order 
of Council dated Feb. 24, trie vessel 
was detained in the Thames until the 
Captain gave bond in £100, condition- 
al, among other tilings, that the service 
of the church of England should be 
read daily on board and attended by 
the passengers, and also that the adult 
male passengers should take the oath 
of allegiance and supremacy. All tin's 
having been done, the ship was allowed 
to proceed on her voyage, but did not 
reach New England until May. Sept. 
3, 1634, he was admitted freeman at 
Boston, obtained a grant of land in 
Ipswich the same year, on which hie 
settled in 1635, an ^ where he resided 
until his death on the 24th of June, 
1679, at t - e a o e °f 88. During h ; s 
long life, he made a variety of records. 
but none that any descendant need 
blush to read. It is remarkable that 
his homestead in Ipswich has ever since 
been, and still is occupied by one of 
his descendants, bearing the family 
name. His wife, Mary, mother of his 
children, died Aug. 30, 1659. and he 
again married Feb. 27. 1660, Mary, 
widow of George Norton, early of Sa- 
lem, afterwards Representative from 
Gloucester. There came over in the 
same ship with Philip Fowler senior, 
and family, his daughter, Margaret, and 
her husband, Chistopher Osgood, 
whom she had married the previous 
year, and who was the common ances- 
tor of most of the Osgoods of Massa- 
chusetts and New Hampshire. 

Joseph Fowler, son of Philip senior, 
born in England, date unknown, mar- 
ried in Ipswich, Mass., Martha Kimball, 
who came over from Ipswich, England, 
in 1634, in the ship " Elizabeth" with 
her parents, and is stated to have been 
then five years of age. Her father, 
Richard Kimball, settled in Ipswich, 

Mass.. and is believed to have been the 
ancestor of nearly all the Kimballs in 
this country. His wife, Ursula Scott, 
was the daughter of the widow Martha 

Scott, who came over with the Kim- 
balls at the age o{ sixty, supposed to 
have been the wife of Hon. John Scott 
of Scott's Hall, Kent Co., England. Jo- 
seph Fowler was killed by the Indians 
near Deerfield, Mass.. May 19, 1676, on 
his return from the Falls fight. He 
was a tanner by trade. 

Philip Fowler second, eldest son 
of Joseph, was born in Ipswich, Mass., 
Dec. 25, 164S. When only two or 
three years of age, he was adopted, 
with the. consent; of his parents, by his 
grandfather, Philip senior, who made 
him his heir by deed dated Dec. 2^, 
1 668. He received the rudiments of 
his education at the famous school kept 
by Ezekiel Cheever. He was a man 
of superior ability, and as a merchant, 
deputy marshal and attorney, quite dis- 
tinguished. Fie acquired a latge 
landed estate, which he divided by 
deeds of gift among his four sons, a 
valuable farm to each. He married 
jam 20, 1674, Elizabeth Herrick, born 
about July 4, 1647. He died Nov. 16, 
1 715. His wife died May 6, 1727. 
She was the daughter of Henry and 
Editha (Laskin) Herrick. Henry Her- 
rick, born at Bean Manor in 1604, 
was the son of Sir William Herrick, 
and came from Leicester, Eng., to 
Salem, Mass., where he arrived June 24, 

Philip Fowler third, ninth child of 
Philip second, was born in Ipswich, 
Mass., in October, 169 1 ; married 
there July 5, 1716, Susanna Jacob, 
daughter of Joseph and Susanna (3y- 
monds) Jacob, and great grand 
daughter of Deputy Governor Samuel 
Symonds of that town. He is report- 
ed to have fitted for Harvard College, 
but did not enter, engaging instead in 
trade and carrying on the tanning 
business, until he sold out -and remov- 
ed to New Market, N. H., in May. 
1743, where he died May 16, 1767. 
His widow died there in i 773. Before 
removing to New Market, he purchased 
of his brother-in-law, Joseph Jacob, (o y 


tae consi : 
dred and 
u New Ma 

e ration ot 

^2000 } two hi 

acres of 1 

ma in j 

t in the township of Exeter j 

and province of New Hampshire, with i 

two houses and two barns thereon." j 
The deed is dated Feb. 14, 1737. For 
fifty-six acres of this land, including 

the homestead, he was sued by Josiah 
Hilton in 1760, and after two trials, one 
in the Common Pleas and the other 
in the Superior Couit, both resulting 
in verdicts in Fowler's favor, Hilton 
appealed to the Governor and Council, 
some of whom were directly interested 
in the event of the suit as lessors of 
the plaintiff, and they in 1764 render- 
ed judgment in favor of Hilton, from 
which the defendant appealed to the j 
King in Council and furnished bonds | 
to prosecute his appeal in England. 
The Governor and Council granted this 
appeal, which vacated their judgment. 
and then at once issued a writ of posses- 
sion founded thereon, upon which Fow- 
ler was turned out of the land and com- 
pelled to pay costs. Fie had executed 
hi&Jwil-Ij May 22, 1754, therein devising 
his large landed estate to his three sons, 
Philip, Jacob and Symonds.and requiring 
them to pay legacies to his daughters. 
The land in controversy with Hilton was 
devised to the two former sons. The 
appeal was prosecuted in England by the 
father and these devisees until after the 
declaration of American Independence, 


1777, the Legislature of New 

Hampshire passed an act authorizing 
these devisees to bring an action o\ 
Review in the Superior Court for Rock- 
ingham county to determine the title to 
this land. Such action was brought by 
them, and at the September Term, 1 7 7 S , 
of that Court, they recovered judgment 
for the land, co.^ts of Court and costs 
of former litigation. On the 14th of 
September, 1778, the Sheriff [rat them 
into possession of the property from 
which their father had been wrongfully 
ejected fourteen years before. Sarah, 
daughter of Philip, one of these sons, j 
was the wife of Governor William 
Plumer and the mother of his children. 
Symqnds Fowler, the tenth of four- 
teen children of Philip third, born in 
Ipswich. Mass., Aug. 20, 1734, removed 

to New Market, N. Id., with his father 
in 1 743, where he married July 1 2, 1 756. 
Hannah Weeks, born in the old brick 
house in Greenland, N. H.. August 
12, 1738. By the will of his 
father he inherited a farm adjoin- 
ing the station' at New Market Junction 
on the Concord & Portsmouth and 
Boston & Maine Railroads, upon which 
he lived until he removed, in May, i ; 78, 
to a farm in the western part of Epsom. 
N. PL, upon Suncook river, where he 
resided until his death. April 6. 1S21. 
His wife, Hannah., died there Dec. 9, 

Benjamin Fowler, the sixth of elev- 
en children of Symonds, was born at 
New Market, N. II., June 16, 1769. re- 
moved with his father to Epsom, N. IF, 
in 1 7 78, married in Pembroke, N.H.Jan. 
15. 1 795, Mehitable Ladd, only child of 
John and Jerusha (Lovejoy) Ladd of that 
town, and grand daughter of Capt. True- 
worthy and Mehitable (Harriman) 
Ladd of Kingston, N. H. He settled 
in Pembroke, after his marriage, on a 
farm lie purchased, and died there 
July 24, 1S32. His widow survived 
him until Sept. 9, 1S53. 

Asa Fowler, the ninth of eleven 
children of Benjamin, was born in Pem- 
broke, N. H., Feb. 23, 181 1. His child- 
hood was spent on his father's farm, 
his means of education after he was 
seven or eight years of age being limit- 
en to eight or nine weeks of winter 
school, his services after that age in sum- 
mer being required in farm work. 
There were very few books to which he 
had access, except the Bible and ordi- 
nary school books, and his early read- 
ing was confined to these. At the age 
of fourteen he had a very severe attack 
of typhoid fever, which left him in such 
enfeebled condition as to be incapable 
of severe manual labor. Under these 
circumstances he was sent to the 
Blanchard Academy in his native town, 
then under the charge of Hon. John 
Vose, but with no other intention than 
that he might become qualified to in- 
struct a common district school. But 
with opportunity to learn and to read. 
a desire for a liberal education was 
awakened, anil by alternately working 


upon his father's farm in the spring and 
summer, attending the Academy in the 
fall, and teaching .school in winter, he 
succeeded in not only fitting himself 
for college, but in preparing to enter the 
sophomore class, having attended 
S( hool only sixty weeks after he com- 
menced the study of Latin. With so 
meagre and defective a training, lie 
entered the sophomore class at Dart- 
mouth College, at the opening of the 
fall term. 1830. and although he taught 
school every winter, was able, never- 
theless to maintain a highly respectable 
standing until his graduation in 1833, I 
when, among the parts assigned to the ; 
graduating class according to scholar- 1 
ship, an English oration was given him. J 
He was never absent or unprepared at | 
any recitation during his three years' j 
course. In his junior year he was 
elected a member of the Phi Beta 
Kappa Society, as being in the first 
third of his class. He has never 
sought or received any honorary de- 
gree from his Alma Mater. After leav- 
ing college, he taught the Academy at 
Topsfield, Mass., for a single term in 
the fall of 1833, thereby raising suf- 
ficient funds to liquidate, all indebted- 
ness incured to defray his college ex- 
penses, over and above what he receiv- 
ed from his father's estate. Imme- 
diately upon leaving Topsfield, having 
determined to adopt the legal profes- 
sion, he entered his name as a student 
in the office of James Sullivan, Esq., 
then in practice in Pembroke, occupy- 
ing the office of Hon. Boswell Stevens, 
disabled by a paralytic attack from 
which he never recovered. He con- 
tinued to read books from Mr. Sul- 
livan's library through the following 
winter. In March, 1834, he came to 
Concord, N. IL, where he has since re- 
sided, and entered the office of Hon. 
Charles H. Peaslee, then a rising young 
lawyer, and continued with him until 
admitted to the Merrimack County 
Bar in Eebruary, 1837. While a stu- 
dent in Gen. Peaslee's office, he and 
Hon. Moody Currier, then a teacher in 
Concord, undertook the editorship, as 
a matter of amusement and with no 
hope of pecuniary reward, of a small | 

literary paper, called the Literary 
Gazette. It was published weekly for 
six months, arid then once a fortnight 
for another six months. After Mr. 
Currier retired from the editorship, 
Cyrus P. Bradley, a youth of wonder- 
ful precocity, and the author, when 
a mere boy, of a life of Governor 
Isaac Hill, became associated with 
Mr. Eowler in the management of the 
Gazette. During a considerable por- 
tion of the period in which he -pursued 
the stud)' of the law, Mr. Fowler sup- 
ported himself by writing for other pa- 
pers. In June, 1835, ne was elected 
Clerk of the New Hampshire Senate, 
which office he continued to hold by 
annual elections for six successive years, 
discharging its duties to universal sat- 
isfaction. In 1846 he was appointed 
by the Hon. Levi Woodbury United 
States Commissioner for the District 
of New Hampshire, which office he 
has held ever since, except from May, 
1 871, to May, 1874. In 1S45 ne was 
a member of the New Hampshire 
House of Representatives from Con- 
cord and served as Chairman of the 
Judiciary Committee. Again in 184.7 
and 1848, he was one of the Represen- 
tatives of Concord in that body and 
served upon the same committee in 
both years. In 1855 he was nominat- 
ed by the Independent Democrats, or 
Free Soilers ; as their candidate for Gov- 
ernor, and was frequently assured by 
prominent Know Nothing's that if he 
would join their order he might and 
would be made their candidate, also ; 
but he was deaf to all such suggestions. 
After that party came into power and 
decided to change the judiciary system 
of the State, he was engaged to draft 
the bill for that purpose which subse- 
quently became a law. Afterwards, at 
the earnest and repeated solicitation of 
Gov. Metcalf, although at first he abso- 
lutely declined to do so, he accepted a 
position on the bench of the Supreme 
Court as Associate Justice, which he 
continued to hold, at a great pecuniary 
sacrifice, from Aug. 1, 1855, to Feb. 1, 
1S61. when he voluntarily resigned " 
During this period of five and a halt 
years, he performed his full share of the: 



arduous Labors of a judge of our high- 
est judicial tribunal, and gave genera! 
iction to the bar and the public. 
if his opinions at the law terms as 
reported are not so labored as those of 
some oi his associates, they are more 
numerous, and not less sound and clear. 

Immediately upon his resignation, 
fudge Fowler was appointed by the 
Governor and Council a delegate from 
New Hampshire to the famous Peace 
Congress, which met in Washington in 
February, 1S61, for the purpose of 
averting, if possible, the threatened 
secession of the Southern States from 
the Union, and continued its sessions 
through the entire month. His asso- 
ciate delegates were Hon. Levi Cham- 
berlain, of Keene, and Hon. Amos 
Tuck, of Exeter. In 1S61 he was ap- 
pointed Solicitor for the county of 
.Merrimack, and held the office until he 
resigned m 1865, upon his being ap- 
pointed one of the Commissioners to 
revise the Statutes of the State. He 
was associated in that commission with 
Hon. Samuel D. Bell, of Manchester) 
and Hon. George Y. Sawyer, of Nashua. 
Upon it he labored diligently and suc- 
cessfully, alone superintending the 
printing of the Commissioners' re- 
port, and. subsequently, the printing 
of the General Statutes as finally 
adopted by the Legislature of 1S67. 
He also attended almost constantly, 
during the whole period of that Leg- 
islature, upon the sessions of the 
joint select committee to whom the 
report of the Commissioners was refer- 
red, and greatly aided in procuring the 
speedy action of that committee, and 
the final adoption of the report of 
the Commissioners, as amended by the 
General Court, without protracting the 
session beyond its usual length. In 
187 1 and again in 1872, Judge Fowler 
was a member of the House of Rep- 
resentatives from Ward 6, in Concord, 
serving on the Judicary committee in 
1871, and presiding over the delibera- 
tions of the House, as Speaker, in 1872, 
with dignity, impartiality and complete 

Judge Fowler has been one of the 
most diligent, laborious and successful 

lawyers in the State, and the extent of 
Iris practice for many years has rarely 
been exceeded. In September, TS3S, 
after practising alone for a year and a 
half, he formed a copartnership with the 
late President Pierce, which continued 
until April. 1845. During this period 
of six years and a half, their practice was 
probably as extensive as that of any 
individual or firm in the State. Gen. 
Pierce engaged in the trial of causes as 
an advocate in nearly every county, 
while Judge Fowler attended chiefly to 
office business, the preparation of causes 
for trial, and briefs ior argument at the 
Law terms of Court. Hon. John V. 
Mugridge completed his preparatory 
studies in Judge Fowler's office, and 
upon his admission to the bar in 1854, 
Judge Fowler formed a business con- 
nection with him for one year, which 
expired about the time of Judge Fow- 
ler's appointment to the bench. Soon 
after his resignation of the judgeship 
in 1 86 1, he entered into partnership 
.with Hon. William E. Chandler, which 
continued until Mr. Chandler's ap- 
pointment as Solicitor of the Navy, in 

During his long residence in Con- 
cord, Judge Fowler has been quite fa- 
miliar with the forms of legislation, and 
has probably drafted more bills for our 
Legislature than any other man, living 
or dead. He lias originated many laws 
and procured their enactment, when 
not a member of the Legislature. 
Among those thus originated and procur- 
ed to be enacted may be mentioned the 
statute authorizing school districts to 
unite for the purpose of maintaining 
high schools, and that authorizing 
towns to establish and maintain public 
libraries. He worked zealously with 
Gen. Peaslee to secure the establish- 
ment of the Asylum for the Insane, was 
very active and persistent in securing 
the establishment of a Public Library 
in Concord, and a High School in 
Union District. He has always shown 

a deep interest in the 
education, and for nv. 

cause (^ public 
■re than twenty 


years served as pruden- 

tial committee, or 
Board of Education 

Cor. co 

1 1 . e 


has always been fond of literary pur- 
suits, and has quite an extensive and 
well selected miscellaneous library. 
For the last three or four years he has 
belonged to a class in English Litera- 
ture, whose weekly meetings, during 
the winter season, have been devoted 
with much pleasure and profit to read- 
ing the works and discussing the lives, 
character and times Of English and 
American authors of reputation. He 
has been more or less connected with 
various moneyed institutions. He was 
a Director of the State Capital Bank 
from its organization under a State 
charter until his appointment to the 
bench, when he resigned. Lie was a 
Director and President of the First 
National Bank from its organization 
until he lost confidence in its cashier, 
when he disposed of his stock and re- 
signed. Pie has long been, and still is. 
a Director of the Manchester and Law- 
rence Railroad, and for several years 
was its President. In his religious sen- 
timents he is a liberal Unitarian, al- 
though m early childhood he memor- 
ized the Westminister Assembly's 
Shorter Catechism. Educated a dem- 
ocrat, bur with strong anti-slavery con- 
victions, he acted with the democratic 
party until its devotion to the extension 
of slavery compelled its abandonment 
in 1846, and for the next ten years he 
acted as an independent democrat. 
Upon the formation of the Republican 
party he joined it and continued in its 
ranks until in 1875 he resumed his 
connection with the democracy. 

In the spring of 1S7 7, forty years from 
his admission to the bar. Judge Fowler 
determined to retire from active prac- 
tice. A severe illness in the fall of that 
year confirmed his resolution. Before 

his full recovery, by the advice of his 
physician, he decided to visit Europe. 

Accompanied by his wife, daughter, and 
third son. he left Boston on the 13th of 
April, 1878, and returned to New York 
on the 1 7th of October following, hav- 
ing, during his absence, visited the prin- 
cipal points of interest in England, 
Scotland, Ireland, Italy, Switzerland, 
Bavaria, Austria, Bohemia, Saxonv, 
Prussia, Hanover, Holland, Belgium, 
Germany and France. He returned 
home with renewed strength and energy, 
and has since been in the full enjoy- 
ment oi health and happiness, in the 
quiet of his pleasant home in Concord 
and his beautiful cottage by the sea, 
near Rye Beach. 

Judge Fowler has been peculiarly 
fortunate in his domestic relations. On 
the 13th of July. 1037, he married Mary 
Hole Cilley Knox, daughter of Robert 
and Polly Dole (Cilley) Knox, of lip- 
so m, N. LI., and grand daughter of Gen. 
Joseph Cilley of the Revolution, who 
is still living, and by whom he has had 
five children, four sons and one daugh- 
ter, all now living. Their names are 
Frank Asa, George Robert, Clara Ma- 
ria, William Plumer and Edward Cilley. 
The oldest son is a lawyer by profes- 
sion, and has always lived at home. 
The second son married Isabel, eldest 
daughter of Hon. Josiah Minot, by 
whom he has three children, two daugh- 
ters and a son, and resides at Jamaica 
Plain in Boston. The daughter has al- 
ways resided with her parents. 'Hie 
third son lives in Boston. The two last 
named sons are lawyers in successful 
practice in Boston, as partners. The 
fourth son is married, has no children, 
is a farmer, and resides in Orange, 






Far from the crowded mart, not long ago, 
A boy grew weary of his rural home ; 
He longed to see the glitter and the show 
Where traffic centered, and in freedom roam. 
How small and cheerless had the homestead grown, 
But how expansive looked the scene afar ! 
No more in beauty o*er the hay- field shone 
The sun for him ; nor e'en the evening star 
With smiling lustre o'er his sweet-heart's roof, 
What time the fire-flies lose a tangled braid 1 
And so he kissed his mother's trembling lips, 
Bade Kate adieu beneath the old elm's shade, 
Pressed father's hand, and sought ambition's goal. 

In speeding train lie drew life's future plan- 
Great business secrets he would quickly learn ; 
For had he not the stature of a man, 
And did he not for fortune's favors yearn? 
Yes, neighbors called him " smart." and haply, now 
The day had dawned to try his latent powers ; 
A smile lit up his smooth unclouded brow. 
He saw no thorns among the blooming flowers. 
"A few short months." he mused, " wil 
Then to youth's quiet haunts will I return, 
And bring the maiden of my wiser choice ; 
And then" — a flying spark his eyelids burn. 

Soon on the stony pave of city grand 
He roams delighted, — 'tis a novel scene ; 
Block after block looms up on every hand 
So close a corn-husk could not slip between ! 
His eyes with wonder ev'ry moment fill. ; 
How brilliant do the great store-windows gleam ! 
No one around him stands an instant still — 
It seems the shifting glories of a dream. 

All day with bounding heart he strays around, 
At night beneath the gas-light sees the street ; 
But somehow he has not true pleasure found ; 
He's foot-sore, weary of the noise and heat. 
So leisurely he finds his boarding-place, 
Wond'ring who milked the kine at close of day. 


Who brought the wood— -and pictures mother's lace, 

More sad and thoughtful now her buy's away. 

Confused by all the sights, with tired brain 

He tumbles into bed and restless lies ; 

The slowly dawning truth comes back again — 

" A stranger 1, 'mong strangers," — and he sighs. 

The yielding mattress has no soothing charm 
Like that old cot beneath the attic stair ; 
For song of katydid comes fire-alarm, 
The hurly-burly, and the midnight glare. 
Across the room where wide-awake he lay, 
All night the street lamps' shadows weirdly flit, 
Lie missed the softning touch of moonlight ray 
On the white coverlid dear fingers knit ; 
The old black cat curled in the cane-seat chair 
Beside his couch and the bright valance there ! 
And oft he thinks of Katy's rozy cheeks 
And dimpled elbows with a tender pain ; 
And wonders if she's dreaming now of him 
With his last rose bud 'neath her pillow lain. 

And every time he turns himself in bed 
He feels more strongly that he's out of place ; 
Thinks of his sweet home life with aching head, — 
Strange he had never prized its rural grace, — 
For when the sun that morning rose in view 
Plump up it came o'er tiles arid blackened roof; 
No bannered pomp was there, the eye to woo, 
The very chimneys coldly stood aloof ! 

A great homesickness surged within his breast, 

rlis little store of gold he counted o'er ; 

Went out and wandered aimlessly, — nor looked 

At things that pleased so much the day before. 

And drifting on he came to open door, 

The depot's portal through which he had pressed 

So eagerly to join the city's roar, 

And grasp its riches, — now he longed for rest. 

He saw a train all ready to go out, 

The black smoke pouring from the engine's stack ; 

He heard, as in a dream, the porter's shout 

And looked with longing down the shining track ! 

And something drew him in among the throng 

That moved as if in fear of being late 

Toward the ticket-window, — and ere long 

He held a card, the symbol of his fate ; 

For joy it brought among the granite hills. 

In two farm houses, with his swift return ; 

Fond mother's eyes with tears of rapture fills 

And little Raty's cheeks, with blushes burn ; 

But guud support will worthy old folks gain, 

And comfort going down life's sloping shore, 


Sweet Kate a husband, good and pure, tho' plain, 
The mart a loafer lost, perhaps, no more. 

Think not, dear readers, I have drawn for you 

A scene from out the boyhood of our host ; 

Tis but a simple tale, yet grandly true, 

And proves that plodder, if con lent, does most 

To fill a sphere of usefulness and joy, 

By walking faithful in the beaten track. 

" Far from the madding crowd" and glory's boast, 

Who would not rather be the Country Boy, 

That from the city's glitter turned him back, 

Than he who joins the great ignoble strife 

And mid'st temptation wears away his life ; 

Or perishes among the throng- that meet 

To snatch the bauble from king mammon's feet ! 

Here, within sight of his own chimney smoke, 

From early youth our host has plowed the soil ; 

His father e'en this glebe round homestead broke 

And taught young Hiram in the fields to toil. 

Hisyf/Zr years of life in Lempster spent, 

Behold our townsman, loved so long and well ; 

His brow wears aureole of sweet content, 

These fields and crops of worldly comfort tell. 

Perchance, he too. in youth did strongly dream ; 

The Western fever may have seized his frame, 

But yet he saw t'was Ignis fatuus's gleam, 

And knew that fortune was a co\ old dame. 

And so he chose the wise, the better plan, 

Well knowing that our climate, rough and stern, 

Would yield to ev'ry patient husbandman 

A timely and a generous return. 

To-night we gladly meet ; we take his hand, 

Proud of his skill, his influence and truth ; 

A factor in the glory of our land, 

A bright example to our rising youth. 

Long may his uplands gleam with waving wheat, 

Long may his valleys bear the tasseled corn ; 

In age may riches cluster around his feet, 

Poured by our Father's hand from plenty's horn ! 

May baby lips pronounce that grandsire's name, 

The tenderest hands his slightest wish attend ; 

And all here gathered fondly hold his fame, 

As honored host, as townsman and as friend ! 





On a balmy morning of July, 1S80, 
the writer started off for a long-con- 
templated visit to the summit of Car- 
digan Mountain. At Franklin, in 
accordance with previous arrangements, 
he was joined by an eminent member 
of the bar of Merrimack County, and 
the two performed the journey, made 
the ascent of the mountain, visited 
historic places, as well as mines, 
churches, and cemeteries, and returned 
triumphant at night. 

A brief account of this trip may 
not be entirely devoid of interest. Just 
above Franklin village, as the readers 
of this magazine generally know, the 
train whirls along the shore of a spark- 
ling sheet of water which is popularly 
called " Webster Lake," from the fact 
that Daniel Webster, all through his 
lifetime, was often found Fishing in its 
waters. But Webster gave to this gem 
of a pond the poetic appellation, Lake 
Como, from its resemblance to the 
picturesque lake in Italy by that name. 

At East Andover and along the bor- 
der of Highland Lake, the upward 
bound train runs due southwest for a 
time, and directly towards the village 
of Contoocookville in Hopkinton, but 
it soon swings to the right and passes 
up the Blackwater valley between 
Kearsarge and Ragged mountains. It 
spins along with lightning speed, giv- 
ing the alert passenger a bare glimpse 
of the famous notch at Beetle village, 
thence onward, passing the coal-kilns 
on Smith's river, through the deep 
excavation at Orange Heights, and 
reaching the " city of the plain" (East 
Canaan) at noon. 

At the Cardigan House in this cleanly 
village, dinner and a team were ready 
on our arrival. My friend (Mr. B.) 
having ascended the mountain some 
twenty years before tins day, felt com- 
petent to follow the scanty track un- 
aided, and a proffered guide was re- 

spectfully declined. Part way up the 
mountain slope we pass a small ceme- 
tery which is on the right, and a mile 
further on we pass another, at the 
"common," which is on" the left. 
These two cemeteries on the Orange 
hills are well fenced and in complete 
order. The graves of the departed 
are generally marked by white marble 
slabs. A comely, one-story edifice, 
painted white and having green blinds, 
standing between these two : " cities of 
the dead," is the Orange church, 
where not only " the poor have the 
gospel preached to them," but the rich 
as well. This church stands on a 
table-land and commands a broad and 
magnificent view to the south and west. 
There is no house or odier building 
near it. We enter this sacred temple 
on the mountain, as bolts and bars are 
not required in that moral atmosphere 
to preserve it from desecration. As- 
cending the preacher's desk, and open- 
ing an ancient bible lying thereon, my 
friend, reverently, and with great elocu- 
tionary exactness, read the fifteenth 
] Psalm. 

We pass on over broken ground and 
deep channels cut by mountain streams 
when swollen by the floods ; pass the 
mica or isinglass quarries, and reach 
the terminus of the carriage road. 
Here is a small farm occupied by a 
large family. As we reached this place 
a slight rain came on, and the thought- 
ful lady of the house said : 

"You better put you horse into the 
barn 1 " 

" Pray, madam, where is your barn ? " 

" Oh, you are in it now ; but we call 
this side the house, and the othei side 
the barn! " 

The sun emerges from the vapory 
clouds, and, in tropical heat, we toil 
up the devious way. Jnst before lca\ 
ing a wooded ravine and coming out 
upon the silver-grey ledges forming 


i r 

the summit of the mountain*, our burn- 
ing thirst is quenched at a spring as 
clear and refreshing as the waters of 

Cardigan lifts its silvery head 3100 
feet above the sea level. A vast area 
of smooth, grey rock (embracing hun- 
dreds of acres) crowns the summit of 
this elevation, and the visitor can go 
horn point to point in making obser- 
vations, without hindrance. The first 
thing that we discovered, in our ascent, 
alter getting above the region of trees 
and foliage, was a small flock of sheep 
standing like silent sentinels on the 
crest of the mountain. They had 
sought refuge here from the armies of 
insects and the excessive heat which 
prevailed on less elevated positions. 
We saw no other living thing on that 
bald height. The day was all we 
could ask, the air was clear, and the 
views in every direction were extensive 
and inspiring. Mountains, lakes and 
shaded valleys made a landscape never 
to be forgotten. 

We descended the mountain. At 
its base we made a detour to visit the 
site whereon stood the dwelling-house 
and farm-buildings of Col. Elisha 
Payne, which were erected six or seven 
years above a century ago. The his- 
tory of this remarkable man, — though 
but little known, — is of deep and 
thrilling interest. He was born and 
reared in the state of Connecticut, and 
he probably graduated at Vale College. 
His birth occurred in 1731, the year 
before that of Washington. The town- 
ship of Cardigan was granted Feb. 6. 
1769, by the provincial governor of 
New Hampshire, under the authority 
of the king, in one hundred and two 
equal parts. Each of the one hun- 
dred and one proprietors had one 
part, and a glebe for the church of 
England constituted the other part. 
The grantees were Elisha Payne, Isaac 
Fellows and ninety-nine others. The 
first settlements in this township were 
made in 1773. by Payne, Silas Harris, 
Benjamin Shaw, David Fames and 
Capt. Joseph Kenney. Payne at this 
tune was forty-two years of age. The 
town was incorporated by the name 

of Orange, in June, 1 790. Payne 
went back into the dense wilderness, 
far beyond the reach of any human 
habitation, and selected a swell o{ 
good, strong land fur his firm, near the 
base of the mountain. The old cellar 
(28x30 feet) remains, but the place 
was deserted and the buildings were 
removed long years ago. 

Payne was a trustee of Dartmouth 
College from 1784 to r 801, and was 
its treasurer in 1779 and 1780. His 
connection with the college explains 
the fact, that when the small-pox broke 
out at Dartmouth, subsequent to 1780, 
the afflicted students were carried to 
this remote and lonely mountain-seat 
for treatment. Payne had removed to 
East Lebanon, and settled on the shore 
of Masooma Lake, before this occur- 
rence. Several of the students died 
and were buried, but no stone marks 
the place of their peaceful rest. The 
Payne house, from this time forward, 
was called the Pest blouse, and was 
used as such, at a later day, by the 
authorities of Orange. 

Payne had a son (Elisha Payne, Jr.) 
who graduated at Dartmouth, and who 
was a man of character and ability. 
He seas the first lawyer to open an 
office in Lebanon. This office was at 
East Lebanon, which was then the 
chief village in that town. He served 
in both branches of the legislature of 
this state, but died at the earl)- age of 
about forty-five. 

Elisha Payne, senior, was a man of 
strong mind and great decision of 
character. He was the leader, on the 
east side of the Connecticut river, in 
the scheme to dismember New Hamp- 
shire and annex a tract, some twenty 
miles in width, to Vermont. July 13, 
1778, he was chosen, under the stat- 
utes of Vermont, a justice of the peace 
for the town of Cardigan, in a local 
town-meeting held that day. He was 
a member of the " Cornish Conven- 
tion " of t 7 78, and of the "Chariestown 
Convention" in 1781. fie was represent- 
ative from Cardigan in the Vermont 
legislature, under the first union, in 
1778, and was representative from 
Lebanon, under the second union, in 



April, 1 7 8 r . In October of the same 
year, he was chosen Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor of Vermont, by the legislature of 
that state, then in session at Charles- 
town, New Hampshire. In this legis- 
lature, fifty-seven towns west of the 
Connecticut and forty-five towns on 
the New Hampshire side of that river 
wore represented. 

The details of these singular trans- 
actions cannot be given in this article. 
They would occupy too much space. 
[See History of Warner.] It is enough 
to say here, that when the bitter and 
prolonged strife between the two ju- 
risdictions, (New Hampshire and Ver- 
mont) was nearing the crisis, and 
Bingham and Gandy of Chesterfield 
had been arrested by Vermont officials 
for resisting the authority of that state, 
and thrown into jail at Charlestown, 
and Col. Enoch Hale, the sheriff of 
Cheshire County, had proceeded under 
orders from the President and Council 
of New Hampshire, to release them, 
and had been seized and summarily 
committed to the same jail, and the 
militia of New Hampshire had been 
put on a war footing to rescue Hale 
and the other prisoners at Charlestown, 
Governor Chittenden of A 7 ermont, 
commissioned Elisha Payne of Leba- 
non (the lieutenant-governor) as briga- 
dier-general, and appointed him to 
take command of the militia of that 
state, to call to his aid Generals Fletcher 
and Olcott and such of the field offi- 
cers on the east side of the Green 
Mountains as he thought proper, and 
to be prepared to oppose force to force. 
Put, bloodshed was happily averted. 
The Continental Congress took hostile 
ground against the scheme to dismem- 
ber New Hampshire, and Gen. Wash- 

ington put his foot upon it. In tins 
dilemma the authorities of Vermont, 
for the sake of self-preservation, relin- 
quished their claim to any part of New 
Hampshire, and in February, 1782, 
the second union between the disaf- 
fected towns on the west sidle of this 
state and Vermont came to an end. 

In addition to the offices already 
named, Payne held that of chief jus- 
tice of the supreme court of his cher- 
ished state (Vermont), a stale then 
stretching from the head-waters of the 
Pemigewasset to Lake Champlain. 

After a life of adventure, of strange 
vicissitude, of startling success and 
crushing defeat, Elisha Payne quietly 
fell asleep in East Lebanon, at the age 
of seventy-six years. Pie was buried 
in the unpretending cemetery near his 
place of residence in that village. His 
wife, a number of his children, and 
other members of the family, — in all. 
seven persons, — were inurned in the 
same cemetery-lot, but about a quarter of 
a century ago, in the late fall, there came 
a fearful storm, and the gentle brook 
whose course lies along the border of 
this receptacle for the dead, suddenly 
became a rushing torrent, and, break- 
ing from its channel, swept in among 
the quiet sleepers and carried away 
most that remained of the Payne fam- 
ily. Winter closed in, but the next 
Spring such bones as had not found a 
lodgment at the bottom of Mascoma 
Lake, as it is usually called, were gath- 
ered up — all put into one box and re- 
deposited in the earth in another part 
of the cemetery, whereon has been 
erected, by family relatives, a substan- 
tial and appropriate monument. And 
so ends the story of a life of stern 
conflict and romantic incident. 




Two hundred and fifty years have 
. ome and gone, since Edward Garfield, 
iht first of the name in America, left 
( hester, England, and landing at. or near 
Boston, settled in Watertown \ and 
there in the beautiful cemetery of the 
town, lie buried five of his descendants. 
There is a tradition in the family that 
he was married to a German lady, on 
the passage out ; but this is apocryphal, 
and in fact the record of the ensuing 
one hundred and fifty years is confined 
to the half obliterated histories upon the 
mouldering headstones standing over 
their mossy graves. Then, in 1766, 
Solomon Garfield, the general's great 
grandfather, was married to a widow, 
Mrs. Sarah Stimpson, and moved to 
Weston, Mass., where he remained 
until the close of the Revolutionary 
war— -in which he bore an active part — 
when, gathering his household Gods, he 
joined one of the many parties migrat- 
ing to central New York, and moved to 
Worcester, Otsego county, bought land, 
made a clearing and reared his family. 
Solomon Garfield's son, Thomas, the 
grandfather of Gen. Garfield, arrived at 
the years of manhood, married in the 
town of Worcester, managed, like his 
father, to wrest a scanty living from the 
obdurate soil, and died in 1801, leav- 
ing four children, Abram, the young- 
est — and the General's father — being 
only two years of age. 'J 'his son was 
bound out to a relative of his mother's, 
living near them, named Stone, and by 
him treated as one of his family. At the 
age of fifteen — a sturdy broad-should- 
ered young man — he left his home with 
Mr. Stone, and went to St. Lawrence 
county, N.Y., where he obtained employ- 
ment on a farm, remaining there three 
years, emigrating thence to Newburg, 
Ohio, where he was engaged in chop- 
ping, and clearing land for the next three 
years ; and in 1 S20 pushed on to Zanes- 
ville, Ohio, where a settlement had al- 
ready been started by some of his old 

friends from Otsego county, among 
whom was the family of Ballou, with 
whose children he fuid been intimate in 
New York, attending the same school, 
and sharing their sports, and soon 
after his arrival, on the 3d of Feb., 
1S20, he was married to Eliza Ballou, 
the mother of Gen. J. A. Garfield. 

Some fifty years subsequent to the 
arrival of Edward Garfield at Water- 
town, Mass,, the revocation of the Edict 
of Nantes drove to ourshores a party of 
French protestants who settled in Cum- 
berland, R. I. The acknowledged 
leader of this colony was Maturin Bal- 
lou, who caused the erection of a meet- 
ing house, in which for years he preach- 
ed the pure faith, of the Huguenots. 
As they had neither nails, nor saw-mills 
in those days, the building was con- 
structed of hewn oak, the exterior cov- 
ered with shingles, and the whole 
fastened by pins, and remaining as per- 
fect to-day as when first constructed. 
From this eloquent divine is descended 
that celebrated family whose names 
have been so distinguished in the an- 
nals of theology, jurisprudence and 
statesmanship, and who as a race have 
been remarkable in the possesion of an 
energy, and force of character which 
has lost nothing in its transmission to 
the soldier-statesman, the subject of 
this sketch. In 1770, Maturin Ballou. 
a grandson, of the French refugee, left 
the settlement at Rhode Island, and 
moved to Richmond, N. H., where he 
was ordained pastor of the Baptist 
church ; his youngest son, Rosea, the 
founder of Universalir-m in America, 
was born in this town the same year. 
The house in which he was born has 
long since been numbered among the 
things that were, its successor stand- 
ing upon the same site being now owned 
and occupied by Mr. Noah Perry. El- 
der Maturin Ballon, the Baptist pastor, 
is buried near the old homestead, a 
rough stone bearing the initials M. B., 


alone marking the spot where he 
sleeps. lie was accompanied from j 
Rhode Island, to Richmond, by his 
cousin James ' Ballou?, who bought aj 
farm in the east part of the town, near 
the Massachusetts line, and on this farm, 
in 1 80 1, was born Eliza Ballou, the moth- 
er of Gen. ( larfield. The house in which 
she was born, judging from the area of 
the foundation ruins, was about fifteen 
feet by twenty, one story in height ; 
but of this nothing is left, save frag- 
ments of the cellar walls, and these are 
so overgrown with trees, bushes and 
briars, as to be almost obscured ; a 
birch tree eight inches in diameter is 
growing in one corner of the cellar, 
and some twenty feet to the south-east 
of the house, 'neath an old half decay- 
ed, apple tree, may be traced the out- 
lines of the well, like the cellar walls, 
covered with a thick growth of shrub 
and bushes. In the rear oi these rel- 
ics was the orchard, once a field of two 
or three acres, now a halt tnicket oi 
thrifty pines and birch, interspersed 
with a few moss covered mournful look- 
ing apple trees, whose withered branch- 
es in the fading twilight seem 
spectre guardians of the desolate ruins. 
The property is now owned by Dennis 
Harkness, Esq., and forms a portion of 
his farm. James Ballou resided on this 
place until 1808, when he moved to a 
farm near the center of the town, now 
owned by Mr. Roscoe Weeks ; this 
place being on the then main road 
from Boston, via Concord to Windsor, 
Vt. ; he opened a store upon the premi- 
ses and combined merchandising with 
his farming operations, achieving a 
remarkable degree of success, and there 
continuing until his death in 1812, 
when his widow, disposing o( the prop- 
erty, emigrated to Otsego county, N. 
V., and settled in the town of Worces- 
ter, in which place several of her Rich- 
mond friends were already located, and 
where Eliza Ballou and Abram Garfield 
first met as school children. James 
Ballou is supposed to have been bur- 
ied in the large cemetery near his 
place ; but a careful examination fails 
to furnish 
of the half do 

iy reliable data; anyone 
iozen weather-beaten, half 

defaced slabs of slate, standing near 
where other Ballous are laid, may be 
Ins ; but it is involved in too much of 
doubt and obscruity to be stated for a 
fact. Me was generally known among 
his townsmen as Conjurer Ballou, and 
obtained a high reputation among them 
as a fortune-teller, his predictions, or 
guesses, being remarkable for their ac- 
curacy ; he even foretold the hour of his 
own death, and his prophetic soul sail- 
ed out o'er the unknown sea, on the 
day appointed. Some ten years ago 
(Sen. Garfield and his mother visited 
Richmond, and at the Weeks house, 
she pointed out the room in which her 
father died. At the ruins of his birth- 
place, the General found some bits 
of broken pottery, which he carefully 
cherished as a memento of his mother's 
early home. The old storehouse at 
the Weeks place, was torn down forty 
years ago ; the turnpike road having 
been changed there was no encourage- 
ment to keep it up. The house is a 
one story, unpainted, common looking 
structure, with nothing in its architec- 
ture or surroundings to arouse interest 
or attract attention : in a few years, 
when it shall have crumbled to decay, 
its site may become a modem Mecca, 
but not til! then. A younger brother of 
James Ballou, named Silas, lived and 
died on a farm, near the birth-place of 
Mrs. Garfield; he was a sailor until he 
was twenty-one, and it is perhaps from 
him that Gen. Garfield acquired his 
early love of the sea. At the time that 
Silas left the briny deep he was unable 
to read or write, and a sneering remark 
in relation to his ignorance acted as an 
incentive, and caused him., all unaided 
as he was. to procure an excellent edu- 
cation : as a mathematician he was su- 
perior to any with whom he came in 
contact, even compiling an algebra of 
examples all his own. In addition to 
his other acquirements he wrote a 
number of patriotic songs ; one of them 
written for a townsman, a Mr. Cook, and 
sang by him among his friends, began 
as follows : 

"Old England forty years ago, 
When we were yoiing and sl< xnhir, 
Aimed sit us a moj tal blow, 
liat God was our dviVi.der." 



Am! another, alludin 

:ttiers of the town : 


to the early 

!l ... 

»ks Ballon*, and I 
wen, Boom and si 
itl v, itli different -v i 
iher ami tin.- Son." 

The Boorn referred to in the above 
I ; removed to Otesgo count}', N. Y., 
from Richmond j about five years prior 
U the removal of James Ballou's wid- 
ow, and when, in 1814, Mrs. Ballon de- 
cided to leave New York for Ohio, Mr. 
Boorn bought her New York place. He 
had an adopted daughter, at this time 
about three years of age, who after- 
wards married Gardiner Garfield, a 
fourth cousin of the General's father, 

and now living in Royalton, Massachu- 
setts, about three miles from the birth 
place of Eliza Ballon. 

Of the subsequent course of the 
Garfield family in Ohio, the sad death 
of the father, devoted courage of the 
mother, ami heroic struggles of the son, 
until success was achieved, volumes 
have been written ; but the lesson of 
encouragement conveyed in each line 
of his history is of inestimable value, 
as showing how pluck and honesty, 
united with a tenacity of purpose, may 
surmount disaster and conquer impos- 



See. the e\ es of Beauty glisten, 

As she turns her head to listen 

To Love's words, her cheeks' soft flushes 

Deepen into warmer blushes; 

Underneath her hat's broadbrim 
Eyes coquettish look on him. 

See! the fickle god is smiling; 

V.V11 i knew his air beguiling; 

Peeping slyly o'er her shoulder, 

If the fire of love doth smoulder, 
He will fan it into flame, 
And herself will he to blame. 

il Listen, sweet, pray heed my warning; 
Cloud not thus your life's fair morning; 
Though of good he seems the giver. 
Full of arrov/s is his quiver; 

Surely you will feel their smart; 

Beauty, look out for your heart. 

He will fill your soul with anguish. 

Leave you then to pine and languish. 

Humbly you may sue before him, 

Wildly on your knees implore him. 
He'll not heed your wild appeal, 
Azure eyes can turn to steel. 

See the traitor's double dealing; 
While Ire looks with soft appealing;, 
Toying with her golden tresses. 
Wooing her withsoft caresses, 

With his straight, unerring dart. 

Pierces deep poor Beauty's heart. 

Then, without a word, he leaves her. 
Caring not though sore it grieves her, 
Heeding not her word-- imploring. 
Heeding nor her eyes adoring. 

Turns away a scoffing face. 

Lifts his wings with airy grace. 

Beauty, longing, gazing after. 
Hears the sound of mocking laughter; 
Plainly now she sees her error. 
Turns from him in sudden terror, 

But, alas! too late to save. 

Love has fettered one. more slave. 

j 6 





After an absence of many years, it is 
a pleasure no! to be expressed in words 
that I am permitted to meet once 
more this great company of familiar 
faces, and on this bright June morning 
to assist in some slight degree to cele- 
brate Xoithfield's one hundredth birth- 

And it is fitting that we should cele- 
brate this. Ever since the peopling of 
the earth, has the custom prevailed of 
commemorating the eventful days of a 
country's, town's, or family's history. 

To keep in remembrance past events, 
all modern nations have their festival 
days ; the Greeks and Romans had 
their games ; and the Jews, their Pass- 
over, their Feast of Tabernacles, and 
their Year of Jubilee. 

But America's great festival day is 
destined to be the Centennial ; both 
for our republic as a whole, and for 
its towns individually ; for the Centen- 
nial commemorates the event most im- 
portant in the history of each — its 
birth. This is not possible in the Old 
World, as the origin of every nation 
there is veiled in the dim and distant 
past. Not so with us. The exact day 
of even" town's birth is known. Our 
great republic, the United States of 
America, was proclaimed a nation one 
hundred and four years ago, on the 
4th of July. Our little republic, which 
we call North-field, was proclaimed a 
town just one hundred years ago to- 
day — that is, on the roth of June. 

1 7So -. 
This event you resolved should not 

pass unobserved. And with you, to 

resolve was to perform. And the result 

is tins grand, rousing, sociil reunion of 

the present and former inhabitants of 

the town, this great outpouring and 

commingling of good feeling and town 

patriotism, and this meeting of old 

! friends and revival of past associations ; 
| and, in short, this coming together of 
I your whole population — to bid fare- 
! well to the old century and to greet 
the new. 

We welcome you, sons and daugh- 
ters of Northwood, to tins gathering of 
good will and old remembrances ! We 
welcome you in the name of the living 
present, and in memory of the deceas- 
ed fathers ! We welcome you, one 
and. all. male and female, young and 
old. from far and near, to this wedding 
of the past with the present 1 And 
may this reunion result in great good 
to our town and in a blessing to us all. 
Northfield is a century old to- 
i day. And since we have reached 
I this first centennial mile-stone of 
I our town's history, let us pause a 
I k-.\s' hours this morning from that eager 
| looking ahead, so characteristic of the 
| Americans, and look back — let us, I 
| say, us o( the fourth, generation, look 
j back — over the heads of our fathers, 
: our grandfathers, our great-grandfath- 
! ers — not only to the event we are cele- 
| brating to-day — the act of incorpora- 
! tion— but twenty years beyond — to 
i the first settlement in 1760, and render 
j deserved honor to that hardy band of 
j pioneers, who left friends and planted 
! their families in the deep solitude of 
I what was then a vast forest — not like 
i the pleasant grove in which we are 
celebrating on this 19th of June, but 
tall, dark, pathless, forbidding, and 

Benjamin Blanchard is generally 
credited as being the founder of North- 
field, though two years earlier Jonathan 
Heath is said to have built a log hut 
on the Gcrrish intervale, which was 
once included within the limits of old 
Northfield, but now belongs to Frank_ 
lin. However that may be, by commo 


nscnt, Blanchard was ttii 


present nmits o 


tier witmn 

In 1 760, he cut his way through an 
unbroken wilderness from an old fort 
in Canterbury, and settled on what is 
now known as Bay hill. Blanchard 
was then forty-one years of age. His 
father, Edward Blanchard, was killed 
twenty-two years before by the Indians 
at the old Canterbury garrison. At 
this time, Benjamin is supposed to 
have had nine children. ' : For several 
years," says Mr. M. B. Goodwin ot 
Franklin, " as far as I can learn, Ben- 
jamin Blanchard and family were the 
only settlers in Northneld. It is an 
interesting fact to state in this place, 
that the first Methodist church that 
existed on this continent was erected 
the same year in winch Benjamin 
Blanchard erected his log house on 
Bay hill — in 1760.'' He opened a 
clearing for himself on what is now 
the farm of Ephraim S. Wadleigh — 
his dwelling: standing back of the orchard. 

Bianchard's residence was a log 
house — then, and for many years after, 
the fashionable style of architecture 
among the pioneers of Bay hill, and 
of the town generally, It was a con- 
venient style — not showy, but having 
a severe Doric simplicity, quite in 
keeping with the character of the early- 
inhabitants. They were not capacious 
— containing but one, or at most, two 
rooms, and with the big families of 
those days, they " must at times have 
furnished rather close quarters. But 
they were warm and cosy — easily con- 
structed, for the timber was close at 
and a few days' labor only was required 
to transform it into the settler's modest 
mansion. When the logs were squared 
by the axe, they formed a solid, mas- 
sive structure, bidding defiance to 
winds, and proof against cold and the 
bullets of the savages, thus making at 
the same time, comfortable homes and 
strong fortresses. There are worse 
homes, let me tell you, in the world 
even now, than, the log hut. Com- 
pared with the mud hovels of many 
parts of Europe, and the board shan- 
ties of this country, it was a palace. 

Here, then, Blanchard lived for sev- 
eral years, cut on from mankind by 
many miles of intervening forest. We 
don't know, but we imagine, that a 
feeling of loneliness would creep over 
him sometimes, when lie thought of 
his isolation from his fellow-man. 
Perhaps he thought occasionally when 
the perils around him from beast and 
savage were greatest, and his struggle 
with primeval nature the fiercest, that 
he was leading rather a tough life. It 
would not be strange, if he had now 
and then hi? blue days, when discour- 
aged and heart -sick, he was ready to 
give up, and retrace his steps back to 
the old Canterbury garrison. But of 
his feelings no record tells. He must 
have suffered privations we know — all 
settlers did in those times. Many a 
weary mile may he have trudged — a 
bag oi com on his back — perhaps 
even to Concord, or farther, in order to 
obtain a scanty supply of meal for the 
manufacture of an occasional bannock 
for his household, or to thicken their 
porridge. Such groceries as sugar, tea, 
coffee, butter, cheese, and the like, we 
may believe, were rare visitors at his 
table, and wh eaten bread an unknown 
luxury to him and the little Blan- 

But after all, this picture has its 
bright side. If he hadn't beefsteak, he 
could get bear-steak, merely by burn- 
ing a little powder. If biscuit was 
wanting, potatoes, such as new ground 
only can produce, supplied its place ; 
while rabbits, deer, squirrels, and part- 
ridges furnished many a delicious titbit. 
Besides, the Winnipiseogee — only a mile 
distant— teemed with millions of shad, 
and Skendugady, no doubt, was fairly 
alive with the delicious brook trout. 

After all, Blanchard was probably a 
happy man. His mode of life, we 
may suppose, gave him perfect health 
— he had the satisfaction of seeing his 
clearing growing broader every year, 
giving him more sunshine and blue sky 
overhead, and a greater extent of til- 
lage land beneath ; while as for loveli- 
ness, his little cabin was fairly running 
over with children, so that he might be 
as much puzzled where to bestow his 

1 8 


imported young Canterburyltes, as was 
the famous old woman "who lived in a 
shoe." His home was all the dearer 
to him from its seclusion. He was 
decidedly a home body. He couldn't 
well be otherwise. You didn't see him 
lounging about the stores, or taverns, 
or depots, or grog shops, after it was 
time for honest folks to be abed. In- 
stitutions for loafing were not yet in- 
vented. His nest, crowded with those 
nine Canterbury birds and their mother, 
required and received his presence and 
protection each night. And he kept 
good hours — retiring early, first taking- 
care to rake up the coals, so as to find 
a bed of glowing embers in the morn- 
ing, for tin's was before the day of 
Lucifer matches, and the loss of fire 
would have been quite a serious mis- 

Well, in this way, the years came 
and went, and in process of time 
he began to have neighbors. The first 
to follow him was William Williams, 
whose daughter, widow George Han- 
cock, died at the residence of her son, 
William Hancock, in Canterbury, Jan. 
14, 1S60. aged one hundred years, 
eleven months, and four days. Let 
her be remembered as the oldest 
son that Northfield has as yet 
dueed. We'll see what the next 
tury can do in that respect. 

Afterwards came Nathaniel and Reu- 
ben Whicher, Capt. Samuel and Jona- 
than Gilman, and Linsey Perkins, and 
settled on the farm where Warren H. 
Smith,, Esq., now resides. On the Per- 
kins place, opposite Mr. Wadleigh's, 
was a hut used for school pur- 

The first two children born in town 
were Aaron Collins, and Ebenezer 
Blanchard, grandson of old Benjamin 
and Bridget Blanchard, whose birth 
took place in 1768. Ebenezer kept a 
hotel on the Wadleigh farm. His 
father, Edward, was a prominent man 
in town — twenty-five years a selectman, 
often moderator at town -meetings, and 
served as a soldier throughout the 



gravestone was found among 
stones hauled to repair the well. 

The settlement had now so far in- 
creased that the mail route from Con- 
cord to Gilmanton Comer passed over 
Bay hill. The first post rider was 
Ezekiel Moore, a native of Canterbury, 
where his son, Col. Matthias M. Moore, 
still resides, He carried the mail from 
1 79S to 1812, and possibly a little 
later. This was the only regular means 
of communication the little settlement 
had with the great outside world, and 
old people used to tell his son, years 
ago, with what intense anxiety they 
awaited the coming of the postman, 
his father. After Mr. Moore retired 
from the business, his neighbor, Mr. 
Tallcnt, a young man, whose death 
occurred but a few years ago, succeed- 
ed him. A post and box stood at the 
end of the lane on the Blanchard 
place for the reception of the papers 
deposited there by the mail carrier. 

A little farther south, down by the 
Smith meadow, was a log hat, in which 
lived a Mr. Colby. His wife was a 
weaver, and for want of bars was ac- 
customed to warp her webs on the 
apple trees. It would be difficult to 
find such fruit on our modern apple 
trees, I reckon. 

Esquire Charles Glidden was a lead- 
ing man in Ins day. who died in 181 1, 
at the age of sixty-seven. Mrs. Jere- 
miah Smith known to you so long, was 
his daughter. She died at the ripe age 
of ninety-one ; and her husband, 
whose prosperous and useful life three 
additional years would have rounded 
out to a century, after a union with 
her of seventy-three years, all which 
were passed on the old homestead, 
and having voted for every president 
from Washington to Lincoln, at last 
sunk to rest like a patriarch of old, 
crowned with length of days, and like 
a shock of corn, fully ripe. He left 
three children, viz. — Warren H. Smith, 
Esq.. now leading the life of a prosper- 
ous farmer, and who maintains the 
honor of the patrimonial estate with 

Revolutionary war. The old people, j becoming dignity in the old family 
Benjamin and Bridget, were buried on i mansion, which has been renovated, 
their farm. Years after, the old lady's | modernized, improved, and beautified : 



5frs. William Gilman, of Lexington, 
Mass. ; and Mrs. Miles (Hidden, tor 
many years a resident of Ohio. 

Mr. William Gilman, a hale and vig- 
orous gentleman of about eighty, the 
m > ! of his life a resident of Bay 
hill, and his brother Charles, now in 
Illinois, are sons of Jonathan Gilman, 
who himself, or his father, was, I sup- 
pose, one of the original settlers. His 
great-grandfather on the mother's side, 
came from Lee, bought five hundred 
acres of wild land on and around Bay 
hill, on which he settled his sons- 
Reuben, Nathaniel, William, and Jona- 
than Whieher — many of whose de- 
scendants are now in town. The 
grandfather of Mr. Westley Knowles 
bought his farm of Nathaniel Whieher 
— paying for it, so the story goes, with 
a two-year-old heifer. 

Captain Samuel Gilman, Joseph 
Knowles, and Dr. Kezar were also 
among the first settlers on Bay hill. 

The excellent and very pleasant 
farms at present owned and occupied 
by Messrs. Monroe and William Clough, 
were purchased from Capt. Samuel 
Gilman about the year 1802, by their 
grandfather, Mr. Jonathan Clough, 
who emigrated thither from Salisbury, 
Mass., and died in 1S56, aged eighty- 
six, leaving the farms to his two sons, 
Jonathan and Samuel : the former, the 
father of William, the latter, of Mon- 
roe. Could ambition exist at that 
early day, and in such a small com- 
munity? Yes. The desire to excel 
is the same in all ages and places. 
Capt. Gilman built a bam — the first in 
town, the wonder of the neighborhood 
— which barn still stands on the old 
place. The owner of W. H. Smith's 
farm determined to surpass it. and the 
next year built a barn twenty-five feet 
longer. Whereupon, Esquire Glidden 
built another with a still further addi- 
tion of twenty-five feet, and the con- 
test ended. 

Another of the pioneers of North- 
field was Jonathan Wadleigh, who was 
a native of Kingston. X. H., served in 
the Revolutionary arm}', lived for a 
while at Bean hill, settled on the south 
bide of Bay hill, on what was after- 

wards cailed the Ambrose Woodbury 
farm, and finally died in Gilmanton. 
He was the father of Judge Wadleigh, 
whose son, Ephraim S., still lives on 
the first opened farm in town, and o[ 
Mrs. Capt. S. Glines, who, after having 
lived half a century or more at the 
Centre, returned to her father's home- 
stead on Bay hill, now in the posession 
of her son, Smith W. Glines, and died 
at the age of eighty-two, in the same 
room in which she was born. This 
much for Bay hill. 

As to Bean hill, I suppose it must 
have been twenty years later, or more, 
when Lieut. Charles Glidden moved 
thither from Nottingham, built a log 
hut, left his wife and two children and 
went into the Revolutionary army. In 
his absence, she tilled the soil, felled 
the trees, and hauled her wood with 
the help of oxen. After his return, he 
bought Nehemiah McDonald's farm 
near the old meeting-house. Mr. 
Glidden, his wife, and some of the 
children were buried on sa^d farm. 
His wife was a Mills, and her mother 
Alice Cilly. John Cilly, Robert Evans, 
a Mr. Cofran (father of Col. James 
Cofran), Gideon Sawyer and brother, 
Solomon French and brother, were 
early settlers of this region ; and Wil- 
liam Smith, the grandfather of Warren 
Smith, who was moved from Old 
Hampton by Mr. Glidden. Perhaps his 
son Jeremiah came with him, as he left 
Old Hampton, where he was born, when 
a boy, and went to live in Canterbury. 

In those early times, there was no 
house between Glidden's and what is 
now called the Rand School-house — 
some two miles or more. Ensign San- 
born, whose wife was a Harvey, lived 
not far from there. He probably 
served in the army for a while. 

Mrs. William Gilman, to whom I am 
indebted for many of the above facts, 
relates that woods, wolves, and bears 
were plenty in those times, and car- 
riages very scarce ; so that when Es- 
quire Samuel Forrest's mother died, her 
corpse was carried on a bier laid on 
poles between two horses to the grave- 
yard by the brick meeting-hou>e, some 
three or four miles distant. 


She further says, that "Old Gen. 
Dearborn drove the first double sleigh 
into Northfield on a visit to her grand- 

1 have been able to learn but little 
of the pioneers and settlement of the 
Centre and. Eastern parts of the town, 
with the exception of the Forrest fam- 
ily — a short account of which was fur- 
nished me by Mr. John Sanborn, which 
I give in nearly his own words. 

''John Forrest came from Ireland 
when eighteen years of age. and settled 
finally in Canterbury. Of his four 
sons, Robert settled in the same town, 
and the others in Northfield — John on 
the Leighton Place, William in the 
Centre district, ana James on the farm 
now owned by James N. Forrest, his 
grandson. Two of his daughters mar- 
ried Gibsons, and the other one Mr. 
Clough ; and all settled in Northfield. 
William Forrest settled in the Centre 
district, or rather commenced clearing 
the timber in 1774, just before the war 
of the Revolution broke out. One 
day, while felling trees, he providentially 
escaped death by lightning, which com- 
pletely demolished an ash tree, under 
which he had designed to take shelter. 
He enlisted in the war, and served his 
country with credit. He was the father 
of fourteen children, of whom thirteen 
lived to grow up, and all except one 
attended school near the old meet- 
ing-house." To thus sketch Mr. James 
N. Forrest adds: "My grand-father 
James came here — on the {arm where 
I now live — in 17 84, and subdued the 
forest, erected buildings, built roads, 
and left a worthy son to inherit his prop- 
erty, and do honor to his name. My 
father, who was an only son, named 
me for his father, and I have named 
one of my sons — Samuel — for him. 
How long the names will rotate, only 
the destiny of the family will reveal." 
I understand that this family has fur- 
nished more teachers and held more 
official positions than any other in 

Oak hill proper, ] am informed, was 
for the most part originally in the pos- 
session of Obed Clough, who was suc- 
ceeded by the French and Batchelder 

I families. The later are still represented 

! in that part of the town — among whom 

the best known face is that of "Uncle 

Moses," as he is familiarly called, still 

I hale, vigorous, and whole-souled — one 

j of the patriarchs of the town, showing 

to the younger generation what a life 

of temperance, industry, with a good 

conscience, can accomplish towards 

the attainment of old age. 

I quote from Mr. Goodwin again, 
who says, " Ensign Sanborn, Gideon 
Sawyer, the brothers Archelaus, Sam- 
uel, and Abner Miles, John and Jere- 
miah McDaniel, Nathaniel and William 
Which er, Capt. Thomas Clough. George 
and Joseph Hancock, and the four 
brothers by the name of Cross, were 
in town very early." These, I suppose, 
mostly settled in the western part. 
" On the Crosses they had some verses 
running in this wise : 

Cooper Jess and Merchant Torn. 
Honest Parker and Farmer J ohi 

These Crosses had a sort of village 
down at their place on the intervale, 
opposite the Webster farm. They had 
a coopering establishment, a store and 
a tavern there, and it was, in fact, a 
business emporium for all that region." 

The first manufacturing in town was 
done on what was called the Cross 
brook. Here, and near the Intervale 
and Oak hill, were made earthen and 
wooden ware, lumber, jewelry, and es- 
pecially the old-fashioned gold beads. 
They had there a grist-mill, a fulling- 
mill, and carding machine — the first in 
use — a grocery, jeweller's shop, and 
tailor's shop. The father of Mr. Wil- 
liam G. Hanaford had a shoe shop, 
and some one had a blacksmith — or 
what was then called a shoeing shop. 
In fact, almost every branch of indus- 
try was carried on there in the very 
first decade of the town's history. 

Steven Cross, the great-grandfather 
of O. L. Cross, Esq., married Peggy 
Bovven, and settled near Indian Bridge, 
and raised a family of thirteen chil- 
dren, who were all living when the 
youngest was fort}' years old. The 
oldest. Abraham, married Ruth Saw- 
yer, daughter of old Dea. Sawyer of 




• French 

who was a soldier in both 
and Revolutionary wars. 
nd who had two sons killed at the 
surrender of Burgoyne, where the 
father was also a soldier. Dea. Saw- 
ver owned the ferry two miles below 
[lie Cross ferry, and always attended 
i ) it himself to the last year of his life, 
he being within two months arid three 
days of one hundred years at his 
death. He was the father of twenty- 
two children, twenty of whom grew up. 
Abraham Cross sealed near his father 
Sawyer, and there Jeremiah was born 
in 1S05 ; but the year before the fam- 
ily had settled on the Winnipiseogee 
and built a saw-mill ever alter known 
as the Cross mill. Jeremiah married 
Miss Sarah Lyford of Pittsfield, set-led 
near the Cross mill, and about thirty 
years ago built, on a beautiful eleva- 
tion overlooking the mill, a fine 
mansion in which a few years since lie 
died, leaving behind an enviable char- 
acter for honor, integrity, and business 
enterprise. He was buried with ma- 
sonic honors. 

Among the early settlers were also 
the names of William Kenniston and 
a Mr. Danforth. The latter was a 
soldier of the Revolution, and having 
been wounded, always persisted in say- 
ing that he carried the ball still imbed- 
ded in his shoulder. The statement 
was not credited, however, till, years 
after his death., upon the removal of 
the remains, it was found that the old 
soldier was right, for there firmly fixed, 
so that a hammer was required for its 
extrication, was found the bullet, em- 
bedded in the solid bone. 

The three Miles brothers came into 
town in .1769 or 1770, and settled on 
one farm ; lived on it six or seven 
years, then sold it to Reuben Kimball 
of Concord, in 1776. This farm has 
been kept in tire Kimball name to the 
present time, Reuben giving it to his 
son Benjamin, who sold it to his brother 
David, whose descendants are still 
there. Reuben Kimball was a soldier 
of the Revolution, and in the battle of 
Bunker Hill was hit by musket balls 
three times — once in the crown o^~ his 
hat, once on the powder horn which 

hung at his side (which horn is now in 
the possession of the present occupant 
of the farm) and once in the leg, 
which wound never healed to the day 
of his death, June r2, 1815. 

Well, Time whirls his wheel a little 
queerly sometimes. Now here is Mr. 
j. A. Kimball, the last possessor of 
that farm, whose wife i 


scendant oi' Abner Miles, the first pos- 
sessor of said farm. Said Abner sold 
his right and title to the farm, and cut 
off his descendants, heirs, assigns, etc., 
from all right, title, fee simple, forever 
and forever, when lo 1 a descendant of 
his steps in arid claims equal rights 
with the purchaser. And what is still 
more strange, it is said to be the result 
of a suit — not a law suit — which ter- 
minated in her favor : and so the de- 
scendants of the seller and the de- 
scendants of the purchaser both share 
equally in the blessings of said farm. 

Another excellent farm in Western 
Northfield, which is as well cultivated 
as any upland farm in town, or perhaps 
in the county, is the one owned and 
occupied by Mr. John S. Dearborn, 
which was deeded to his grandfather, 
Shuball Dearborn, in 1779, just one 
hundred and one years ago, by his 
great-grandfather, who then lived on 

the Edmund Dearborn place. 


deed is still preserved in the old family 
chest. Shuball was married in home- 
spun, at twenty-six years of age. and 
commenced housekeeping without bed 
or crockery, and in a house containing 
only one pane of glass. The story 
goes, that he was taxed extra for the 
glass, and for every smoke in the chim- 
ney. But frugality and industry over- 
came all obstacles in, time, and Mr. 
Dearborn lived to see himself in com- 
fortable circumstances, with a good 
house to shelter him, and well furnished 
for the time. He was obliged to haul 
his building material from Portsmouth 
with an ox-team. Pie died at the age 
t of fifty-eight. The farm has been in 
j the family name ever since, passing 
! from Shuball to his son of the same 
j name, and thence to his son, the pres- 
! ent possessor, John S. Dearborn. 

"The Intervale upon which th 

2 2 


Crosses and Joseph Hancock settled ] 
(once a part of old N'orthfield, but 

now included within the limits of i 
Franklin) is one of the largest and ! 
richest on the Merrimack." It here 
spreads out into a broad field of more j 
than one hundred acres, level as a 
prairie, a sort of delta, or miniature 
Egypt, which is flowed in Spring and 
Fall, but never washed, as the water 
sets back upon the land through a 
channel connecting with the Merrimack 
on the lower side. Portions of this 
have been mowed for nearly a century, \ 
and still produce from one to three 
tons per acre. Here Joseph Gerrish, 
Esq., settled in the year 1804. He 
was a native of Boscawen, born in 
17S4 — almost one hundred years ago — 
and was the son of Col. Henry, and 
grandson of Capt. Steven Gerrish, one 
of the first settlers of Boscawen, and 
a native of Newbury, Mass, The 
great-grandfather of Steven (Capt. 
William) came from Bristol, Eng., to 
Newbury, where he settled in 1639 — 
removing thence to Boston in 1687. 

Joseph Gerrish was a man of great 
shrewdness, business tact and enter- 
prise, hospitable and genial. During 
the war of 181 2 he started a distillery 
here for the manufacture of potato 
whiskey, which he gave up on the re- 
turn of peace, and turned his attention 
more exclusively to farming, bought | 
the George Hancock farm on an adja- I 
cent ridge, and thus enlarged his do- 
mains to ample size, with due propor- 
tions of upland for grazing, and inter- 
vale for tillage. Soon after, he remov- 
ed his residence to the upland farm. 
where with convenient buildings, good 
horses, ample means, generous living, 
and a family of thirteen children, he 
lived till his death in 1S51, looked up 
to and respected as one of the most 
substantial farmers Northfield has pro- 
duced. His wife was Susan Hancock 
of Northfield. After his death, his 
broad acres were divided among his 
three sons — Milton, Leonard, and 
Stephen ; the two former taking the 
intervale, the latter, the upland hum. 
Milton and Leonard still abide by their 
inheritance, and with full earners and 

contented spirits we presume they en- 
joy that peculiar happiness and health 
a farmer's lite only can bring. Steven, 
however, after a few years of very suc- 
cessful farming, his house being des- 
titute of children, grew lonely, we 
suppose, and migrated across th ? 
Merrimack, to try the charms oi a vil- 
lage life in West Franklin, where he 
still resides. His place was bought by 
John Kelley, Esq., the present pos- 
sessor, in whose experienced hands th • 
farm bids fair to keep up its ancient 

This is the amount of our researches 
respecting Oak hill and the West part. 

And now hawing given this imperfect 
sketch of the first settlers, and their 
acts during the first twenty years, and 
traced their families down as fully as 
cur information would allow, it remains 
to exhibit them in their corporate ca- 
pacity, beginning with their town meet- 
ings, and following with the great rais- 
ing of the old meeting-house — a mo- 
mentous event in its day, hardly to be 
equalled by a centennial in our time — 
but of these matters, a few items must 
suffice for the present, as an extended 
account will be given of them in the 
History of Northfield, which it is pro- 
posed to prepare during the coming 
year. The following is a copy from 
their earliest 


" At a meeting held in Northfield 
tuesday ye 21 — Nove,r 1780 

1 Voted Mr John Simons Modera- 

2 Voted to a Low Mr Nathanil 
witchers acompt in Gitting ye in Cor- 

3 Voted to Rais Monny to Buy a 
parrish Book 

4 v to Rais Nineteen hundred Dol- 
lars to Defray Parrish Chargis " 


"At a Meeting held in Northfield 
on Tuesday ye first of March 1781, at 
the hous of Mr John Simons 

1 voted Capt Ed nor Blanchard 


2 nd Voted Arehe Miles Clerk 

>rd Voted Reuben Witcher John 

McDaniel Thomas Clougb Select Men 
« Voted Ebenesor Kimbol Con- 

t >bel 

5 Voted Joseph Car David Blan- 
chard Charles Glidden Matthew bains 
& Peter hunniford Servayers of by 

6 Voted Edward Blanchard David 
Morrison hog Rets. 

1 voted Aaron Stevens Sealer of 
Me asm 

8 Voted the Select Men be a Com- 
mitty to git the Monny and Reef Cauld 
for By the Core. 

9 voted to Raise Six thousand Dol- 
lars to Repir high ways in labour at 
forty dollars per day. 

Said Meeting adjurned to the firs 
of Apr at two of the Clock in the 
After Noon at the Saim plais " 

The foregoing is a full record of the 
first two meetings after the town was 

As to how the old meeting-house 
was raised by the whole town in con- 
vention assembled, how Master Bill 
Durgin framed it, and Elder Crocket 
blessed the enterprise, how libations 
were poured out and in, how the wo- 
men cooked the dinner, how the Hill 
women of Bay hill furnished the bread, 
and Mrs. Knowles and others prepar- 
ed the fish, potatoes, etc., by the edge 
of the woods, and how races were run 
up the east hill by men with bags of 
grain on their shoulders, and other 
games ; all this and much more we 
hope to place before our hearers in the 
not distant future, as the work is in the 
hands of one whose ancestor kept a 
complete diary of the proceedings of 
that eventful day. 

In this place, it will be appropriate 
perhaps to introduce a brief account 
of the churehts of Xorthfield. 

The old meeting-house was origin- 
ally free to all sects, but in later years 
was occupied exclusively by the Con- 
gregationalists, who abandoned it in 
iSar, since which it has been used 
only for town -meetings. 

The following sketch of the Con- 

gregational church of Northfield and 
Tilton was prepared by Rev. Corban 
Curtice, a long time pastor of the 
church : 

"The town of Northfield was settled 
in 1760, and incorporated in 1780. 
There seems to have been less of the 
Puritan element among the first settlers 
than in some of the neighboring towns. 
Some years the town voted to raise 
money to hire preaching for a itw 
Sabbaths, but no efficient efforts appear 
to have been put forth for many years 
to secure Congregational preaching. 
The old meeting-house was built in 
1794. The Methodist church was 
organized in 1806. The Rev. John 
Turner was the first Congregational 
minister who preached in town. Rev. 
Jotham Sewall and the Rev. Samuel 
Sewail preached a number of Sabbaths 
each in town. The Congregational 
people for many years worshipped 
with other denominations and aided 
in supporting the preaching, but they 
sought church privileges at Sanbornton 
Square, and at Canterbury. * * * * * 

••On May 29, 1823, Mr. Liba Conant, 
a young minister, was ordained as the 
first pastor of the Northfield Congre- 
gational church. Me labored faithfully, 
and with a good measure of success, 
for about fourteen years, or till Sep- 
tember, 1836. 

"The Rev. Hazael Lucas then sup- 
plied this church one year, or till Sep- 
tember, 1837. 

" Rev. Enoch Corser, for twenty years 
pastor of the Congregational church at 
Loudon, was then engaged to supply 
this church, who remained from Sep- 
tember, 1837, through April, 1S43. 
His labors were abundant, and very 
successful. In 1837, and during his 
ministry, the present Congregational 
meeting-house was built and dedicat- 
ed ; the society being free from 
debt. * * * * 

" Mr. C. Curtice commenced preach- 
ing here, May 1, 1843, and remained 
through April, 1870: just twenty-seven 

'■' Rev. T. C. Pratt commenced his 
labors here, May r, 1870, and closed 
them in June, 1875. 


" Rev. F. T. Perkins commenced his 

ministry hero, September, 1875. 

" A Sabbath -school was organized in 
Northfield, in 182 1, which has con- 
tinued to the present rime, and lias 
been the source of great good to die 
church and community." 

Of the thirteen persons who have 
held the office of deacon in this church, 
ten were from Northfield ; of the six- 
teen superintendents of Sabbath- 
schools, nine were from Northfield ; 
and of the original members, every 
one was from this town, ; and all are 
now dead, Dr. Enos Hoyt being the 
last. The whole number of members 
from the commencement to the pres- 
ent time is four hundred and thirty, 
of whom one hundred and sixty-seven 
belonged here. 

The Methodist Episcopal church 
was organized about 1804, says an- 
other authority. Joseph Knowles and 
wife, their son Joseph, Josiah Ambrose 
and wife, William Knowles and wife, 
Zilpha, were among the first members. 
Also, Mr. Warren Smith's grandmother, 
Mrs. Glidden, who was baptized at the 
time that Lottie Ellis was, who then 
lived with Mrs. Glidden, and after- 
wards became the mother of Benjamin 
F. Butler. Also, Mrs. Fullertpn. They 
were all baptized at the pond. Mr. B. 
Rogers and wife, parents of B. A. and 
S. B. Rogers, were early members. In 
1826 there was an extensive revival of 
religion. Among the converts were 
Jonathan Clough, Westley Knowles, 
and Betsey C. Knowles. The brick 
church was built about this time. 
Samuel Forrest was converted under 
the labors of Rev. George Storrs, 
and became an official member. 
The old brick church was given up, 
and a new house built on the Tilton 
side in 1856, of a capacity to seat 
nearly six hundred. Among the prom- 
inent ministry of that church were 
Reverends L. D. Barrows, d. d., O. H. 
Jasper, D. P. Leavett, Muses Chase, 
M. Newhall, and George Storrs. Rev. 
N. M. Bailey is the present minister. 
The members number two hundred 
and twenty-six. Number on probation, 
thirty- six. 

In regard to common schools, the 
one remarkable fact is the sir,;': ■ 
diminution in the number of chil iren 
attending them since earlier times. 
Why is it? The population of the 
town is now larger. This ma}' be ac- 
counted for in various ways. First, 
the young people leave at an earliei 
age to obtain a more advanced edu- 
cation in the higher schools ; second, 
families are smaller ; and third, the 
young grown-up people and young 
families leave town. But of this last 
reason I will speak further on. 

The first school-houses, of course, 
were made of logs, of which an ex- 
ample lias been given on Bay hill, and 
were generally private dwelling houses. 
Female teachers began to be employed 
about 1S06, and were considered com- 
petent if they had mastered the first 
four rules in arithmetic. In illustration 
of the great advance made in female 
education since that time it is onh 
necessary to point to the many young- 
ladies graduating each year from our 
female colleges and other higher insti- 
tutions, as has witnessed this week in 
the seminary near by. 

The Bay hill school, which formerly 
contained upwards of fifty pupils, has, 
during the past twenty years, often been 
reduced to less than half a dozen. 

The Centre school in former days 
numbered sixty, sometimes reaching 
eighty. Here Mr. John E. Forrest, 
one of our oldest citizens, was accus- 
tomed to attend when a boy, one of 
whose duties was to carry for Master 
Glcason, who boarded at his father's, 
a bottle of cider each day. By mis- 
take one morning, he filled the bottle 
from the vinegar barrel. At the proper 
time, after the wear and tear of the 
morning hour, Master Gleason repair- 
ed to the closet where the cider was 
wont to be kept, and disposed of a 
stout dram, before he discovered his 
mistake. Speechless with rage and 
vinegar, he could only shake his fist in 
the face of the innocent cause of all 
this turmoil, at the same time giving 
such power of expression to his face 
as would have been highly applauded 

on the stage. Finally recovering 


»)eech-, lie roared out the threat of a 
[lodging to the rascal. Doubtless he 
wore a soar look the rest of the day. 

Othei early teachers of the Centre 
ivere Master Morrill of Concord, Mas- 
ters Bowles, Solomon Sutton of Can- 
terbury, Josiah Ambrose of Nortrhfiekl, 
•Yiinehas Thorn, and Edmund Dear- 
born. Miss Morrill and Nancy Glid- 
den were among the female teachers. 
The school now numbers from fifteen 
to twenty. 

En early times, the school in the 
Hodgdon District numbered from sev- 
enty to one hundred, and John Cate, 
an old teacher, took oath in a certain 
suit, that he had one hundred and ten 
scholars. Now there are no scholars 
large enough to attend, and no school 
— one of the greatest changes in a 
school district that I have ever known. 

Among the oldest teaehets were 
Masters Knapp, Parkinson, Meshech 
Cate. John Blanchard, and Edmund 
Dearborn. It is related that Master 
Dearborn's mother used to follow her 
children to the school-house, stick in 
hand, whenever they were unwilling 
to go, and as the result, they all be- 
came excellent scholars. Think of 
that, ye who rely entirely on moral 
suasion ! Among the female teachers 
were Nabby Abbott, Sally Hazelton, 
and Esther Parkinson. Dudley Leav- 
itt, the famous astronomer and almanac 
maker, was the first to teach in that 
district after the building of a school- 
house. At that time he lived at Bean 
hill and boarded at home, walking to 
and from school each day. He wore 
slippers, and once, when passing old 
Squire Lyford's, one of them slipped 
off, but he was so agile, he threw his 
foot into it again, and passed on with- 
out stopping. lie was tall and com- 
manding in person, as were many of 
the Leavitts of those days. 

Now, having tarried so long among 
the early fathers, and gathered into one 
bundle the few items we could pick 
up here and there of their settlement, 
families, of life, and manners 
of governing, let us in company glide 
downward two or three scores of years, 
and saunter somewhere along the mid- 

dle of the century, and strive to catch 
a glimpse of the financial situation and 
social life of our people at that period, 
and then by a few short steps transfer 
ourselves to the present time. 

And first I would say, that from 
twenty-five to seventy-five years after 
the incorporation, the rural, portion of 
the town appears to me to have been 
in its most prosperous state. Village 
life had not grown to such proportions 
then, the majority of farmers \v<-vc in 
mi (.Idle life, with iron frames, strong 
arms and stronger hearts, with stout 
boys read}' to assist and plenty of 
them, with buxom girls in equal num- 
bers, to card, spin, weave, help mother 
generally, and even to rake hay, when 
occasion called, so that those freshly 
opened farms fairly laughed with har- 
vests — filling the barns with hay to 
bursting, and the garners with grain. 
The school-houses were crammed with 
great boys, little boys, middling boys, 
and girls ditto. Those were the golden 
days of the NorthfieLd farmers. 

" Oi't did the harvest to their sickle yield, 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke, 
How jocund did they drive their teams afield, 
How bowed the woods, beneath their stuidv 


Since then village life has gained, and 
as a consequence in connection with 
other causes, rural life has lost. 

In the second place, our fathers — ■ 
and mothers as well — seemed inclined 
to combine amusement and sociality 
with their daily labor more than their 
descendants of the present day. In- 
stead of formal calls — now the fash- 
ion — the good housewife would often 
take her wheel and spend the long 
Summer afternoon with a chatty neigh- 
bor in spinning — the whir of the wheel 
keeping time to the wagging of the 
tongue, and which went fastest would 
be hard to tell. 

There were the raisings, when a new 
house was to be erected, whether of 
logs or framed, when the men came 
from far and near, with the purpose of 
having a high time generally, and they 
generally had it. Then there were the 
shooting matches, and wrestling match- 
es, and apple parings, and quilting 
bees, sleighride parties, and coasting 


parties. There were the spelling- 
schools, which were occasions of much 

interest, when the young people met, 
chose sides, and strove to surpass each 
other in navigating the intricate mazes 
of English orthography. And there 
were social parties, when the young 
men and women-- -often from fifty to a 
hundred in number— would gather at 
the house of some substantial farmer, 
where, before roaring fires, in spacious, 
old-fashioned rooms, warm and com- 
fortable, though the weather might be 
zero without, they would spend the all 
too swiftly passing hours in lively chat, 
or in playing games, such as button, 
rolling the plate, Copenhagen, bean 
porridge, hot and cold, etc., and in 
singing and marching to the songs of 
" Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow," 
and " When the snow blows in the 
field," and '"'Arise, my true love," etc. 

those merry, jolly days— or rather 
evenings — of forty or fifty years ago, 
when girls and boys were as thick as 
grasshoppers in Summer time ! 

A word about husking parties, once 
an important institution in these re- 
gions. When the days had begun to 
shorten and the nights to grow frosty. 
and the corn had been gathered and 
piled in huge heaps in the barns, in- 
stead of sitting solitary and alone for 
weeks, stripping the husks from the 
ears, the thrifty farmer would invite 
his neighbors, young and old, male 
and female, to a husking party, and 
have his corn husked in a single night. 
And it was an invitation in most cases 
gladly accepted. The joke, ami the 
laugh, and the song went round — and 
sometimes the cider. And the fortu- 
nate finder of the red ear had his re- 
ward ; while all were rewarded at the 
conclusion of the work with a bounti- 
ful meal, such as the farmers' wives of 
those days, and their daughters, knew 
how to provide. At those supper 
tables the pumpkin pie usually held 
the place of honor. With its surface 
cf a rich golden color, deep, luscious, 
melting, with crispy circumference, no 
husking party was held to be com- 
plete without the pumpkin pie. 

1 had designed to speak of the mili- 

tia trainings, with their wonderful evo- 
lutions and equipments, and of the 
muster field, to which our Northfield 
warriors marched once in the year, and 
of a famous character always there 
found, by the name of Foster, whose 
continual repetition of" yes'm, yes'm," 
gained him the nickname of " Yes'm " 
the countrv over, and whose war cry 

" Crackers and honey, 
Cheap for the money," 

brought many a dollar to his cart, and 
many a meal of crackers, honey, gin- 
gerbread, and omnges to the hungry 
crowd. But want of time forbids, and 
an abler pen than mine would be re- 
quired to do the subject justice. 

Coming down to the present time, a 
few statistics must suffice. On the 
Northfield side of Tilton village, cloth 
is manufactured to the value of S276.- 
000 annually from two woollen mills. 
There aie smaller mills besides, wheel- 
wright shop, etc. There is a large- 
graded school building there, and over 
fifty dwelling houses. 

The Gazetteer of 1874 says the val- 
uation of the productions of the town 
is 595,000 ; mechanical labor, £46,500 ; 
stocks and money at interest, So, 6-} S ; 
deposits in savings banks, $50,911; 
stock in trade, $6,425. There are 
nine schools in town, one of which is 

By this we see that the manufactures 
are respectable, and they can be in- 
creased to an indefinite extent. But 
agriculture is the principal employment 
of the inhabitants, and they possess 
many fine farms, and under excellent 
cultivation. One or two facts will illus- 
trate the fertility of the soil. The 
trunk of a pine tree for many years 
formed part of the highway fence be- 
low Mr. Clisby's, so large that steps 
were cut in it to assist in climbing 
over. And years ago there was another 
large pine tree cut near the old meet- 
ing-house. Mr. Hiram Glines, a citi- 
zen of the town, states that lie once 
saw a pair of six feet oxen driven upon 
the stump, and turned around on it 
without stepping off. 

Having thus presented a lew out- 


2 7 

lines of the history, and slight sketches 
of the manners of the past, allow me a 

few words on the natural features of 
this "own. 

Xorthfiekl was originally a part of 
Canterbury, from which it was cut off 
by the act' of incorporation in 1 7S0. 
Military authorities say that mountains 
and rivers make the best defensive 
boundaries against invasion, and that, 
perhaps, was the reason why the boun 
diary line was run over the summit o 


Bean hill— over, I think, the topmost J 
pinnacle — while a barrier was put be- 
tween the people and their neighbors 
on the north and west by the Merri- 
mack and Winnipiseogee rivers. l( 
such was the design, it was not a com- 
plete success, as is shown by the suc- 
cessive losses of territory the town has 
suffered. And it is said that many a 
fair daughter of the town has been lost 
to her parents for ever and aye by the 
daring of some marauding young man 
from across the border. 

Northfield has a diversified aspect. 
It has hill and vale, upland and low- 
plain, waving woods, smooth rolling 
fields, rich intervale, and the craggy 
rock. At the first glance you would 
hardly imagine anything to be in com- 
mon between this town and the me- 
tropolis of New England. But in one 
respect there is a resemblance, in 
which, however, we are decidedly su- 
perior to the Hub. Boston was for- 
merly called Tri-mountain, from the 
fact that it was built on three hiils, and 
the name still survives in one of their 
principal streets — 'Fremont. Now 
Xorthfiekl has just that number of 
hills — Bay, Bean, and Oak — the least 
of which would surpass all the city's 
Tri - mountains gathered into one. 
Theirs, they say, are mountains, but 
mountains are so abundant up this 
way that we call ours hills. 

The surface of the town is dotted 
with gem-like ponds. Near Mr. Wins- 
low's on the level plain is Sondogardy, 
blinking at each railroad train as it 
dishes by; and Chestnut, near the 
residence of Mr. Knowles, lies down 
deep in the bottom of a cavity, like 
die crater of a volcano. 

The principal rivers, [ believe, wholly 
within the limits of the town are the 
Skenduggardy (not Sondogardy — the 
Gazettee is wrong) and the Cross 
brook, which ought to be named Son- 
dogardy, as it flows from the pond of 
that name, and without doubt was 
formerly so called. The first named 
river is formed by the union of a branch 
flowing from Chestnut pond with 
another from the heights of Beau hill, 
and empties into the Winnipiscogee. 
It was once something of a manufac- 
turing stream, as it carried two saw- 
mills, and more anciently by ilowage, 
manufactured the Smith and Thurston 
meadows, but of late it has given tip 
the sawing and flowing business and 
seems only solicitous to find its way to 
the Winnipiseogee, while its few trout 
lead a hard life in dodging the mis- 
guided anglers — who are often forced 
to retire from its banks, sadder, if not 
wiser men. Its sister river flows into 
the Merrimack, and was once noted 
for manufactures. Nor is Xorthfield 
devoid of scenic beauty. Indeed, I 
believe it stands preeminent in that 
respect, even among the towns of Xew 
Hampshire. The view from Bay hill, 
in quiet, rural beauty, will compare 
favorably with anything of the kind it 
has been my good fortune to see. Be- 
fore you on the north is spread the 
valley of the Winnipiseogee — with its 
lake of that name, that " Smile of the 
Great Spirit " — a sail over which Ed- 
ward Everett declared to be more 
charming than any he had ever taken 
over the lakes of Switzerland— and 
flowing from it, with a succession of 
bays and rapids, the river hastening 
forward to bathe your northern bound- 
ary, and to meet her sister river on 
your western border. The valley is 
oval, and as you look over its longest 
diameter you see it walled around by 
Gunstock, Belknap, Ossipee, Red hill 
and others, like giant warders, while 
farther away, peering over their heads, 
are Chocorua. Cardigan, Mount Wash- 
ington, and his brothers, while directly 
west, on your left, Kearsarge raises its 
broad shoulders — the most symmetri- 
cal of mountains, as seen from that 


position. This whole Winnipiseogee 
valley probal)ly was once filled by the 
waters of the lake — -Ba) hill reaching 
over to and connecting with a similar 
elevation on the Sanborn ton side — till 
worn down by the river, which drained 


xl on 

Dividing, one branch 
Franklin, and the other 
middle of Northfield, 



making Oak hill an island. Possibly a 
branch passed still further east con- 
verting Bean hill into another island 
much larger. Thus Northfield prob- 
ably once consisted merely of two 
island hill tops. 

From various parts of Bean hill, 
though possibly not quite so beautiful, 
are views more extensive and well 
worth seeing. 

And Oak hill with a patronizing air 
looks down on stalwart Franklin, which 
nestles under its shelter. 

Bean hill is the highest elevation be- 
tween this part of the valley and the 
Atlantic. Its shoulders support many 
a goodly farm, while the pinnacle is 
mostly bare rock, with stunted trees in 
the crevices. 

The Winnipiseogee is said to fall 
two hundred aud thirty-two feet before 
meeting the Pemigewasset, At the 
confluence of the two in Franklin, the 
united streams take the name of Mer- 
rimack, a river which is said to propel 
more machinery than any other in the 
world. A Gazetteer teils me that the 
original name was Merrymake — and a 
very appropriate term it would appear 
to be to all who have seen its waters. 
Others say it was named from Merry 
Mac, a dweller on its banks ; while an- 
other authority says it is an Indian 
word, and signifies a sturgeon. 

Wonderful stories were told by the 
fathers about the fish in our beautiful 
rivers. Not the lean, attenuated spec- 
imens of piscatory life now repre- 
sented by degenerate dace, chubs, and 
perch, with occasionally a lonely pick- 
erel, but shad and salmon — fat, lus- 
cious, and huge, and in such vast num- 
bers at times, as to blacken the river 
with their backs. And what was sin- 
gular in their habits was that though 
they migrated from the ocean through 

the whole length of the Merrimack in 
company, yet, on reaching the fork of 
the two rivers at Franklin, they invaria- 
bly separated, the shad passing up the 
Winnipiseogee to deposit their spawn 
in tlie lake, and the salmon up the 
Pemigewasset. Thus the inhabitants 
of one valley ate shad, and those of 
the other, salmon. 

Northfield contains about twenty- 
seven square miles, or seventeen thou- 
sand acres. She was formerly larger, 
but within the last quarter of a century 
she has suffered a considerable con- 
traction of her circumference, owing 
to the affectionate regard of her neigh- 
bors. She has become reduced— lost 

all this, slve's a 


flesh. But 

healthy, active old lady to-day — for a 

But seriously, though our town be 
contracted in dimensions, it is a goodly 
town still. Its most picturesque, its 
most homelike, its most rural portions, 
its upland farms, its brooks, ponds, 
groves, and its three mountains yet 
remain to you. It is a beautiful town, 
and though small, one to be proud oi 
A greater loss, however, and one 
more to be deplored than that of terri- 
tory, which your town has sustained., 
has been the constant drain for the 
last half century of your young men, 
notably of your young farmers, to the 
cities, and especially to the far West. 
Some of your best life blood has been 
lost in this way. Flad all remained, 
and divided and subdivided your large 
farms into smaller ones, and employed 
| on them the same energy the}- have 
applied elsewhere, what a garden 
I Northfield would have been, and how 
I your school-houses would have been 
filled, in this year of 1S80 ! 

There was in imagination, half a cen- 
tury ago. more than at present, I think, a 
halo— -a romance — cast around the jour- 
ney towards the setting sun. Men felt sure 
of fortune and fame the moment their feet 
should touch prairie land. The great 
; West was in their thoughts, in their 
i talks, dreams, and even their sports. 
I Why, I remember well, that one of the 
| most popular songs we sung, and to 
I the music of which we marched with 


the greatest zest, in those gatherings of 
the young at the houses of the sub- 
stantial farmers thirty or forty years 

.... of which I have already spoken, 
'. is this : 

• Vii-i-, in'- tnn- lovo,and present me vonr haud, 
And v. <• \vill travel to some far distant land, 
Where rh«? gkhs <.:''!'d and spin, and she-boys 

rake and mow, 
\v.\\ ive -VN- 1 1 1 settle on the banks of the pleasant 

Yes, many since that time have 
|< ft Northfield and gone to the 

Ohio and beyond. And many more 
who remained had a desperate longing 
to travel the same road. Thousands 
were the influences operating, of course, 
but I have no doubt that even this 
little song to some extent quickened 
the impulses of your young men to 
desert this beautiful town, and travel 
to the level, monotonous, muddy, fever- 
stricken, homesick, strange, far away 
expanses of the West. Yes, that was 
what they sung : 

" We will settle on the banks of the pleasant 


Bat girls and boys, young men and 
maidens, don't you do it. Don't you 
settle on those banks, nor on the banks 
of any other Western river ! Don't 
put faith in the "beautiful O-hi-o" — 
I've seen it— as long as you have the 
beautiful Merrimack, sparkling, rushing, 
full of life, compared with which the 
'"beautiful O-hi-o" is nothing but a 
muddy, lazy canal, or ditch, good for 
navigation. For beauty, for purity, 
lor exhileratine* effect, give me, a thou- 
sand times give me, your Winnipiseo- 
gee ! Settle where there are healthful 
skies, pure air, sparkling streams. Set- 
tie in New England ; settle in Nordi- 
field ; or, what is better, remain settled 
there 1 

Happiness is what we are all in 
search of. And happiness depends, 
much more than we are aware, upon 
local attachment. And it is proverb- 
ial that local attachment is stronger 
m a mountainous country, than in one 
of plains. The Swiss are said to be so 
afflicted with homesickness sometimes, 
when in foreign countries, such a long- 
ing to see their mountains once more, 

that they commit suicide. Walter 
Scott said if lie couldn't see the hills 
of Scotland once a year, he should die. 
Now a plain country has no such 
power. On the prairies, everything is 
like everything else ; there is no vari- 
ety ; the farms are as like each other 
as two p^a-;. 'Whereas, in a hill coun- 
try like tiiis, every farm has an individ- 
uality, a decided character, that dis- 
tinguishes it from every other. Each 
man's farm is like no other man's farm. 
As we choose a friend, or a sweet- 
heart, not because they are just like 
other people, but for the exact oppo- 
site — him because he is like no other 
man, and her because she is like no 
other woman — so, in process of time, 
a man becomes attached to his farm, 
especially if he has lived on it long- 
enough to become acquainted with its 
peculiarities, because it is unlike any 
other man's farm. He experiences a 
home feeling when he visits the hill- 
side pasture, sees an old acquaintance 
in every hollow, tree, brook, spring, 
and even every rock of respectable 
size has an individuality and a charm 
for him, that in the course of a long 
life adds no small amount to the sum 
total of his happiness. Why, said a 
New Hampshire man to me in Iowa 
once, " I would give half my farm to 
run my plough against a big rock." 

O, but this is nothing but sentiment ! 
some one says. Perhaps it is, but you 
will find that the most of our likes and 
dislikes are founded on sentiment. 
But grant that it is sentiment— nothing 
more and nothing worth, yet, if you 
look at the comparative profits simply 
of Eastern and Western farming, 1 sur- 
mise that you will not find the table of 
profit and loss to be so very much 
against the Northhelder — even on his 
upland farm, to say nothing of the 
intervales. Why, there are ten farms 
under mortgage at the West to one in 
the East. That tells the story ^i pro- 
fit and loss. Much might also be said 
here of the mistake of leaving a coun- 
try for a city life. But tune is rapidly 
passing, and I must hasten to a close. 
I will only say thai the experience of 
the past live or six yeais has 'wrought a 



change in the minds of thousands on j 
this subject. Many a man during the j 
past twelve months has left behind the 
din, the turmoil, the uncertainty of the 
city, and gone back to where he can 
be blessed with 

The low of ciUtle, and 
And health, and quiet, 

ig of birds, 

.'I loving words." 

And may this return tide long continue 
to flow upon the old homesteads. 

But not to the young men alone, but 
to the fathers of the town, allow me a 
word. I would say, take all means to 
improve your town. Make it desirable 
as a place of residence. You have- 
good land, a strong soil, better, much 
better than the average of New Hamp- 
shire land. Feed this soil. Beautify 
your farms. Make your homes pleas- 
ant, and strive in all ways to slop this 
constant drain of your young men to 
the West, or to the cities. You have 
a beautiful town, as I have before said, 
varied, picturesque, and richly endow- 
ed with capacities for improvement. 
Increase its beauties. Adorn it in 



Way. And by so 

doing, not only increase the beauty 


but greatiy enhance the market value 
of our town. Plant trees, make good 
roads, set out orchards, have trim gar- 
dens, ornament your grounds, make 
your houses neat, convenient, and pic- 
turesque ; in short, make every farm a 
paradise — for you can do it — with 
health, industry, and taste. Set your 
faces as a flint in favor of morality and 
temperance throughout your borders — 
in every nook and corner of the 
town — among all classes, and especially 
among the young. Establish a public 
library, and lend a helping hand to 
every good work. What if all these 

should cost a li 

more money 

Money is of no value in itself, but for 
what it procures. Let it procure what 
will give you enjoyment, and improve 
and bless you and yours, your life long. 
See to it that your public schools are 
as good as they can be made. And 
when your children have graduated 
from the district schools, don't forget 
that what would do in your great- 
grandfathers' days, would be totally 

insufficient now. Then man was chiefly 
employed in subduing nature — in fell- 
ing the trees, and in establishing for 
himself a residence. Now times have 
changed. Knowledge is increased. 
Skilled labor and scientific learning 
give power to its possessor above all 
his fellows. A higher education is 
now required to keep us on a level 
with the general intelligence of the 

And glad am I to be able to say, 
that you fortunately have the means of 
obtaining this higher education at your 
very doors. The New Hampshire 
Conference Seminary and Female Col- 
lege is a daughter of Northfield. whose 
birth took place on this side of the 
river thirty-five years ago. Many be- 
fore me have experienced her benefi- 
cial influence, and are nobler men and 
nobler women to-day from having 
come in contact with her moulding 
power. To be sure, she has moved 
out of town, but only across the bor- 
der, to a brother hill facing the one she 
i left, and, in fact, only the northerly 
I part of the same hill, before the river 
{ wore a channel between. So that you. 
! can still claim her as a daughter of 
I Northfield, who has only stepped across 
l the way. And long may she continue 
her influence, not only in Northfield 
and Tilton, but throughout New 
Hampshire, and even extend it to the 
remotest corners of New England. 
This subject of education, in connec- 
tion with the prosperity of your town, 
or of any town, is no small thing. My 
. life's work has been in this cause. 
| Thirty years almost have I, in a hum- 
' ble way, stood in my place of teacher, 
and every year increases my conviction 
of its vast importance. For twelve 
years nearly has it been my fortune to 
find a home in my present location on 
the seaboard. There, on many a 
prominent headland, you will notice 
that a light-house has been erected ; 
l : a light-house that shall send its beams 
i far over the water to guide the mariner 
i in the dark. In the fog, or the storm, 
| or in the dim starlight, shaken by huge 
| billows, or in the calm, that light 
gleams forth, and tells him where he 


... and guides him in the right course. 
So may the New Hampshire Confer- 
, nee Seminary, seated on yonder 
headland., that beautiful headland, send 
i >rth the light of education all up and 
down the Merrimac valley, and not 
sloping there., cross Kearsarge on the 
west, and Bean hill and Gunstock on 
the east, and extend its beams to the 
lakes and the ocean, enlightening, 
gliding, blessing, as long as your three 
hills shall stand, or the Merrimack run. 

And finally, cultivate town patriot- 
ism. Love your town. Render it 
more and more worthy of your love 
with each passing year. Teach your 
children to love it, and make it such 
that they must love it, ardently, devot- 
edly, so that whether they sojourn 
within its limits, or settle far away, or 
wander with no fixed abode, their na- 
tive town will be the one bright, loved, 
home-like spot of all the earth. 

And, dear old Mother Northfield, 
who wearest thy centennial garments 
so well to-day, we, thy children, na- i 

tive and adopted, bid thee all hail ! 
May many and many a centennial be 
celebrated within thy borders. And 
may each anniversary find you farther 
advanced in prosperity and happiness 
and morality than the last. " May 
your sons be as plants grown up in 
their youth ; may your daughters be 
as corner stones, polished after the 
similitude of a palace : may your 
garners be full, your oxen strong to 
labor; may there be no complaining 
in your streets ; and may you be that 
happy people whose God is the Lord." 
And * 

<», our fathers' God! Froiii out whose hand 
The centuries fall like grains of sand, 
We meet to-day, united, free, 
Ami loyal to ^uv land and Thee, 
To thank Thee for the century done, 
And trust Thee for the opening one. 

0, make Thou us through' centuries Ion 
In peace secure, in justice strong; 
And o'er our gift of freedom draw 
The safeguards of the righteous law. 
And, east in some diviner mould., 
Let the new century surpass the old." 



Increase my faith. O God! 

List to thy pleading child. 
Give me a purer soul. 

Jesus, SO sweet and mild. 
Wash thou my garments white. 

Whiter than drifted snow: 
Cleanse thou my heart from sin. 

Thou dost, in \ sorrow know. 

Increase my faith and love. 

Dear Saviour, thee I seek. 
Thou who did'st die to s.ive 

Sinners so faint and weak. 
Hold out thy strong right hand. 

Succor and save my soul. 
For I. am weary grown 

Striving to reach the goal. 

Plead for me brother, friend. 

Saviour! in time of need. 
For sin would work me ill ; 

Let not: the fiend succeed. 
Willi arms thing 'round the " Cross,' 

Lips closely to it pressed. 
And eyes to heaven upraised, 

God give me peace and rest. 

; outh Boston. August 2, 1880. 





Frances, visibly impatient, interrupted 
him, and said to me : 

" Mr. Rudolf von Zvvenken, son of 

my grand -father." 

" We always have some trouble to 
say uncle, don't we, my charming 
niece ? It is my fault. I have never 
known how to inspire the necessary 
respect. Well, cousin de Zonslioven, 
you are now on soundings. A little 
correction, nevertheless, there is no 
longer a Rudolf von Zvvenken, he is 
civilly dead." 

" And morally," murmured Frances. 

" And if he thought of being brought 
to life under this name," continued he 
without paying any attention to the in- 
terruptions, ''• he would commit some- 
thing like a suicide, for it would not be 
long before he would be taken and 

' ; And knowing that, after all that has 
been done to put you out of peril, to 
come and present yourself here ! " ex- 
claimed Frances. 

" But, my dear, who has told you 
that I come to present myself here ? 
It is true, 1 give representations in the 
province, but he who presents himself 
to the public is Mr. Smithson, so well 
disguised that the Karon Yon Zwenken 
himself would not recognize his son." 

" That is very fortunate, for he would 
die if he did," said Fiances in a deci- 
ded tone. 

" Oh ! there ! dearest, you exagger- 
ate. My father has never been so sen- 
sitive as that on my account. He 
would never know who this Mr. Smith- 
sou is. His son Rudolf respectfully 
desires to have an interview with him, 
and on that account he asks for your 
intervention, Frances." 

''It is useless, sir, you can neither 
see your father again, nor speak to 

"What inhumanity, Frances !" 

" My duties to humanity lay me un- 
der the first obligations to your father." 
" But, dear child, understand me. 
I only wish to kiss his hand and ask 
his pardon. For that I have imposed 
on myself a thousand fatigues, run a 
thousand dangers, ridden three hours 
on horseback, hidden in the ruin, 
climbed the garden wall at the risk of 
breaking my arms and legs ; seeing a 
light here, broke in here, and I shall 
have done all this for nothing ! Xo, 
my darling, that cannot be, you will be 
good, you will manage to e:ive me the 
desired opportunity." 

" No, 1 tell you, and you know that 
when I come to a decision, I do not 
give up." 

" Still, you have a heart, Frances. 
Ah ! I see what restrains you. You 
think that I come back like the prodi- 
gal son, pennyless, returning from the 
swine's husks. It is exactly the con- 
• trary. I bring more than six hundred 
| florins in good and fine greenbacks. 
j It is a beginning of restitution. What 
i would papa say if he found them to- 
! morrow morning on his pillow? Do 
! you believe that he would not open his 
; arms to his erring son?" 

" No, Rudolf, certainly not. You 
I have broken your word of honor, and 
that is something your father would 
never pardon in you. Don't speak of 
restitution. What is this sum in com- 
parison with what you have cost him, 
with what yc 

a nave marie us a! 

in fine, with the sacrifices which gave 
us the right to hope that we had. at 
least, bought rest and oblivion." 

Rudolf bowed his head and sighed 
without answering a word. I could 
not help pitying this unfortunate man. 
1 should have been glad to say some- 


! thing in his favor, but the cold, haughty, 

and even contemptuous bearing of 

i Frances overawed me. She must 


have a reason for her inexorable se- 

vcn;v, a reason which I could not 
surmise. 1 must, therefore, remain ab- 
solutely quiet. 

At length, Rudolf awoke from his 
dejection, swallowed a -lass of water, 
and, turning towards Frances, said to 
her in a serious tone : " Listen, Fran- 
ces. You seem to take my father 
under guardianship, and to oppose 
yourself, without even consulting his 
wishes, to a reconciliation between him 
and me, and it seems strange that a 
niece, a simple grand-daughter, should 
busy herself in playing here the role 
of an elder brother, who does not 
wish to hear of the kind reception of 
the prodigal son. Still you know that 
I have neither the wish nor the power 
to dispute with you the succession to 
my father's estate." 

11 The only thing that was wanting 
was to be suspected by you of cove- 
tousness," replied Frances in an indig- 
nant tone. 

"That is something of which I 
should have the least thought of accus- 
ing you ; on the contrary, I am bowed 
down under the weight 01 my obliga- 
tions to you. I only said that to re- 
move all uncertainty. For all the 

world, I 


Richard Smithson, an 

American citizen ; but do not refuse to 
allow me here to be still for a few mo- 
ments Rudolf von Zwenken, who would 
like to see his old father a last time 
before bidding him an eternal fare- 

" Your eternal farewells mean noth- 
ing, we always see you reappear." 

" Yes, but if I should go without 
your leave ? After all, who can pre- 
vent my going to find my father in the 
large chamber, the way to v, hieh I know." 

" Do it, but I warn you of one 
thing, and that is that in the ante-room 
you will meet Rolfe, who knows you of 
old, who only obeys orders, but who 
always obeys." 

"The devil take Rolfe! What 


the old scoundrel doing here?" 

"The old scoundrel does his best, 
does more than he ought, to enliven 
the last days of your father, made 
wretched by you." 

" My misfortune would not be com- 
; plete, if it was not crowned by your 
! contempt," exclaimed Rudolf, not 

I knowing which way to turn. 

I ventured to offer myself as a me- 
j diator. " Useless," replied Frances in 
j the same cold and haughty voice, 
j "' Rudolf remembers that on nay knees 
I 1 begged my grandfather not to let his 
son go into exile without a word of par- 
don, and that I obtained nothing but 
a scene of grief and anger. Consider 
also that you have yourself aided in 
giving currency here to a report of 
your death. The baron believed it, 
has become accustomed to it, and J 
might also say has consoled himself for 
it. The fear that he had that you 
would be arrested, tried, and sentenced, 
has only ceased since then. Would 
you renew his anxieties and tortures? " 
•• That is true, too true, you are 
right," said Rudolf, falling into com- 
plete discouragem ent. 

" But you will not go without having 
taken something," said Frances, recov- 
ering her natural kind disposition, as 
soon as she saw herself victorious, " I 
will go and get you something to eat ; 
cousin Leopold will allow you to dine 
in has room." 

Thereupon she went out, leaving me 
with my strange cousin. 

" Br-r-r ! " said he to me. " our Ma- 
jor is not a cat to be handled without 
gloves. Flow she looked at me. I 
felt myself pierced through and through, 
and yet a heart, a heart such as you 
will not find one in a thousand." 

•*' 1 confess that in her place I should 
have been softened." 

" ; What can 1 say to you? She only 
j knows me by my bad sides. When 
j chance or my faults have brought us 
I two together, it was in circumstances 
! which could not dispose her in my 
! favor. I have cost her trouble and 
i money ; I am afraid that even her reputa- 
| tion has suffered on my account. She 
! wished to aid me, not caring more than I 
; did about what people said. It was at 

i Z . The paternal mansion was 

1 closed to me. She arranged to meet 
\ me in a retired place for promenade,. 
I where not a soul is seen except on 


Sundays; but we were discovered, 
watched by some lounger, and God 
knows what fine stories flew through 
the little city on her account. The 
generous girl had pledged her dia- 
monds to assist me, without her father's 
knowing anything about it. This act 
of devotion was interpreted to her dis- 
credit. You nia\- say that it would 
have been still more beautiful on her 
part not to remind me of this when 
she sees me again. Bah ! my dear, it 
is just as impossible to find a perfect 
woman as a horse without a fault. The 
only result is that, she can scratch and 
bite me as much as she pleases, I bow 
my head and " 

At this moment, Frances came back, 
bringing wine, meat, and bread. My 
unexpected guest seized them with vo- 

"By the way," said he, after having 
emptied several glasses, "where shall I 
pass the night? I can't go into the 
wing, occupied by Rolfe and the Gen- 
eral. I could sleep very well in the 
stable on a bundle of straw, only I am 
afraid of the coachman." 

"We have no coachman, now/' said 
Frances, who became very pale. 

" What ! Have you discharged 
Harry Blount?" 

" Harry Blount is dead." 

" Dead ! He would hardly be thirty 
to-day. It was I who taught him to 
ride ; but, Frances, my angel, how pale 
you are. Have you also been obliged 
to do without your beautiful saddle- 

" No, Tancred is kept at the farm ; 
but the recollection of Harry Blount is 
terrible to me, to me, — who am the 
cause of his death." 

" You speak foolishly ; come now, 
you have been obliged, in a moment of 
vivacity" — (he made a gesture of a 
man, who whips another), " but 1 have 
done as much, more than once, that 
does not kill, and you, certainly, have 
not assassinated him." 

" I. am, not the less, tire cause of 
this brave fellow's death. It was when 
we were driving out in the carriage. 
We had been obliged to sell the dapple- 
grey span, — " 

" God damn ! The fine beasts ! My 
poor father !" 

" We had a new horse, which we 
wanted to harness with the only one we 
had left. We were going to try them. 
Harry wanted to do it alone, but I got 
it into my head to drive, myself. So I 
mounted on the seat by his side, seized 
the reins, and we took the road which 

leads from Z to the village. We 

went like the wind. I drove with a 
high hand, and applauded myself for 
my triumph ; but Harry shook his head 
and cautioned me to be careful. The 
sky was dull and threatening. Gra/.y 
as I could be, I excited the horses still 
more/who already began to cease to mind 
the bit. Harry, frightened, wished to 
take the reins. I resisted and was not 
willing to give them up. At that mo- 
ment the storm, which had been 
threatening for some hours, burst upon 
us ; the thunder rattled, and the horses 
reared. Blount jumped down from 
his seat to quiet them. He fell and 
the horses passed over his body. In 
despair I also jumped down at the risk 
of my -life. The violence of the shock 
threw me into a sort of fainting fit. 
When I came out of it, I saw the un- 
fortunate Harry Blount stretched out 
on the ground, crushed and scarcely 
breathing. He only lived an hour 
after the accident." 

Frances, seated on the sofa, ended 
her account of the accident with 

" That is a pity, Frances, a great 

pit)"," answered Rudolf, " why did not 

this misfortune happen to me, rather 

than to Blount? You would have had 

one less burden to bear. Now that 

the deed is done, we must do the best 

we can. I have seen many others fall 

J from a horse who have not been 

| picked up. What can we do about 

I it? Wait for the day when our turn 

| comes and think no more about it ; 

but, still," said he, while continuing his 

meal, which had been interrupted for 

a moment, " that does not tell me 

where I shall pass the night. Must I 

| return to the ruin? It is a very cold 
: chamber, especially when one knows 
I that the paternal castle near by " 




"There is absolutely no room to 
offer you, Rudolf." 

'•Rut why cannot Mr. Rudolf share 
mine? I should willingly yield ray bed 
to him." 

" No," said he, eagerly. " I should 
be very well contented with the sofa, 
at least if Frances will consent." 

" Very well," said she, " only you 
must promise me that to-morrow at 
day-break, you will be far away. To- 
morrow is your lather's birth-clay, and 
there will be many people at the castle." 

" I swear to you, Fiances, I will go 

"Then I trust your word once more, 
and now good-bye — it is time for me to 

"Now take this pocket-book, Fran- 
ces, it is a little beginning of restitu- 
tion ; I would like very much to be 
able to offer you more, but I am not 
yet a real American uncle. At least. 
accept what I can give you." And he 
showed the Union greenbacks in the 

"Are they genuine. Rudolf ?" she 
asked in a grave tone. 

" Heavens, Frances, what do you 
mean? I have done many foolish 
things in my life. I have been a fool, a 
squanderer, a bankrupt. I am a deserter, 
but to counterfeit bank-bills ! Ah ! 
Frances, how could you suspect me of 
such infamy? " 

" I might well be suspicious, Ru- 
dolf; I have unfortunately had 

•' Proofs ! " he exclaimed, painfully 
astonished, " but that is impossible." 

" What can I think of the false let- 
ters of credit, where you have imitated 
your father's signature. We have 
them locked up, these terrible proofs, 
and they have cost us dearly. I have 
pardoned you for that, with all the rest, 
Rudolf, only facts are facts." 

" It is impossible, I tell you, he re- 
plied, firmly. "There must have been 
some terrible misunderstanding which 
I beg of you, I conjure you to aid me 
in removing. If my father has such 
an idea of me, I am no longer aston- 
ished that he prefers to believe me 
dead. 1 am no longer astonished that 

you despise me. Moreover, I swear 
by my mother's soul, Frances, I am 

" But still, these drafts were pre- 
sented to the Baron von Zwenken, we 
paid them, because otherwise we should 
have had to face a scandalous law-suit. 
The judgment could not have reached 
you, because you were in America, but 
my grandfather would have been oblig- 
ed to resign." 

" Frances, you have good sense. 
Flow should I have dared to do such a 
thing just at the time when I was con- 
cealed in the environs of Z , at 

the time when you were generous 
enough to procure for me the means 
for my adventure in America, at the 
moment when my most earnest wish 
was to go into exile with my father's 
pardon? Show them to me, these 
cursed drafts, and I shall be able prove 
to you my innocence." 

" They are locked up in the baron's 
secretary. I cannot get them for you." 

" My God ! if I could see them, I 
could prove to you that, with my poor 
hand, I could never imitate a fine and 
regular writing like that of my father. 
What do you say about it, Mr. Leo- 

" I believe you," I said to him. 

"Ah! that does me good," he re- 
plied, with tears in his eyes, " but let 
us see, my father, who passed his vaca- 
tions at watering-places, couldn't he 
have become acquainted with some 
miserable wretch capable of playing 
him such a trick? " 

" For four years the General has not 
gone away from home except one 
winter, which he passed at Arnheim." 

"And this Rolfe?" 

" No, Rudolf, do not suspect him? 
he has been badly brought up, but he 
is an honest man, who would tear out 
his eyes to save his old general a single 

"Then the devil is at the bottom of 
it. Now take these bills, Frances ; 
they are genuine, I assure you ; take 
them to show me that you believe 

" Very well, I believe you ; still you 
need them yourself." 



" Be easy as to that. I am doing 
well; first bare-back rider in the Great 
Equestrian Circus of Mr. Stonehorse 
of Baltimore, two hundred dollars a 

month pay, isn't it superb? You see, 
I have never ceased to love horses. 
They have cost me a pretty sum in 
the past ; now they bring it back to 

" Still, Rudolf, you might have fallen 
lower. Your calling, at least, requires 
courage and skill. But I do not ac- 
cept your money. I don't take back 
what I have given. We shall see each 
other to-morrow early, for it is useless 
for you to jump from the balcony and 
again climb over the garden wall." 

"Absurd! a fine affair for the first 
bare-back rider ; but if you wish to 
make sure that I am gone for 
good " 

" 1 have told you that 1 would still 
like to have confidence in you, I do 
not take back my word. Good night, 

She was already far off, when Ru- 
dolf, who finished emptying his bottle, 
said to me in his ordinary tone : 

" I don't reall}- know if I ought to 
congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I 
really believe that our charming Major 
has found her colonel." 

It was disagreeable to me to join 
with him in a conversation on that 
subject. I made a sign of doubt. 

" Aha 1 " said he, " do you think 
that I have n't any eyes? I know wo- 
men, I can assure you. It is a knowl- 
edge that has cost me dear. In my 
vagabond life I have met all colors, 
and my niece, though she has a 
masculine heart, is still a woman. 
You dazzle her, that is certain. It is 
with her, as it is with a race-horse ; 
with patience, attention, a firm hand, 
you reach the goal. As for me, I 
have always been too passionate, too 
impatient. These gracious devils arc- 
aware of it, and then you get the 
worst of it, there is nothing more to 
do. After all — perhaps I am mis- 
taken," said he, seeing that I remained 
silent, " otherwise, 1 would add that 1 
hope that you are rich. The grand- 
father is ruined." 

"By whom?" said I, rather cruelh 
but this verbiage was unbearable. 
" I))- whom? That is the question. 

I have contributed to it, that is all. 
May the devil take me. if I lie. Job; 
Mordaunt, if he was living, could tel 
a good deal about it. Still lie received 
his wife's dowry, and Frances ought lo 
have found it at her majority. Un- 
fortunately, he had eaten it, for the-, 
used to live, sir, they used to live. 
They always sent me away to Werve 
with my tutor, when I began to see, to 
observe ; after my sister's death, I 
used to be more at Mordaunt's house. 
Perhaps it tires you to hear me run 
over all these things?" 

" Not at all, I am very happy to 
listen to your adventures." 

"Ah! My God! The first cause 
of my misfortune is my father, who 
opposed me in everything. 1 wanted 
to be an officer. My father would 
never let me enter the military school 
at Breda, against which he had I 
know not what prejudice-. He was 
resolutely determined to see me study 
law at Leydeu, so that I might make 
my way, he said. Ah ! yes, I have 
made my way. Since I was studying 
for my father's pleasure, I also wished 
to find my own, and as he sent me a 
good deal of money, I led the life of 
an extravagant student. I had a horse 
and tilbury and incurred enormous 
debts ; still I attended some lectures 
which interested me. and I was soon to 
pass my examinations, when my father 
embarked in a law-suit with aunt Rose- 
laer and lost it. I could not continue 
my student life. Thanks to powerful 
friends, my father was able to secure 
me an advantageous position in the 
revenue office. I was responsible for 
my debts and must marry a rich heir- 
ess. That was one of the conditions. 
Unfortunately the heiress was too old 
and had too red a nose to suit me, and 
my father, furious, declared that he 
would have no more to do with me. 
I had not the least inclination for the 
regular office life. I found an old 
bureaucrat, who had remained seated in 
one chair for twenty years, without 
getting mouldy, I abandoned all my 



amused myself 
without thinking of anything, when 
one fine morning I found that my ani- 
mal had run away with the chest. I 
was responsible, and my father, count- 
ing on the said marriage, was my 
surety. I believe that the maternal in- 
heritance of poor Frances disappeared 
in the gulf. What next? I had a hue 
voice, and I wished to go to some for- 
eign country, practice in some con- 
servatory, and return as an opera 
singe)-. My father would not consent 
to that, and indicated to me that there 
was nothing left for me but to enlist, 
i yielded, hoping that once enlisted, it 
would not be long before I should be- 
come an officer ; but I could not ac- 
custom myself to discipline. They 
sent me to a garrison at a little place 
on the frontier. Rolfe was my lieu- 
tenant, and he spared me neither in 
police duty nor on guard. In short, I 
had enlisted for five years, and did not 
remain five months with the battalion. 
One fine^ morning I deserted. They 
caught me. I wounded a subaltern in 
trying to defend myself; my case was 
clear, but I succeeded in escaping 
from prison. I must say that they 
gave me a chance, and Frances, as I 
learned later, aided in my escape. 
Then I was as i'rec as air, but I must 
live. I tried everything. I gave Latin 
and French lessons to the German 
peasant boys, and singing and piano 
lessons to the frauleitis. I was the 
private singer to an Austrian countess, 
who was deaf and imagined that 
my voice resembled Roger's. I trav- 
elled with a strolling opera troupe. I 
sang out doors. I was the baron's coach 
man. I was travelling salesman for a 
'•vine house, but they wished to send 
me into Holland, and — good-by. 
Then I was a waiter in a cafe, marker 
m a billiard-room, valet and secretary 
to a Polish count, who had appreciated 
my skill in this noble game, and who 
took me with him to Varsovia and has- 
tened to confide to me that he had the 


means ot matung Poland independent. 
Naturally his enterprise failed, but 
Siberia did not fail him, and as for me, 
1 was obliged for a while to endure the 
carcere duro> because I would not tes- 
tify against him. I came out of prison 
pennyless. Still I do not wish to 
wear}' you with a recital of ail that I 
was and did. It would have been sim- 
pler to make a good plunge into some 
river, but I always had a prejudice 
against suicide, and besides my health 
was always good, and I was free from 
melancholly. I rolled about as I could 
through all the great cities and all the 
watering places of German)', north and 
south, constantly changing my name ; 
imprisoned once with a Moldanian 
prince, who was accused of murder, 
but set at liberty after having proved 
that my acquaintance with his excel- 
lency was subsequent to the crime ; re- 
garded as dead in Holland, having 
skilfully managed so that this repoit 
should be believed. At length I grew 
tired of my life of adventures. I 
knew that a member of our family 
had done well in America, and I also 
wanted to try my fortunes there ; but 
the money was wanting. I flattered 
myself with the hope that after ten 
years had rolled by my father would 
consent to furnish it. I wrote to Fran- 
ces. The answer was not encourag- 
ing. My father threatened that, if I 
had the audacity to reappear, he 
would deliver me up to the council of 
war. I thought that Frances wished 

to- frighten me. I came to Z well 

disguised, and I was able to convince 
myself that she spoke the truth. 
Frances, poor soul, was the only one 
who had any pity for me, and you 
know how much that has cost her. 
And when I think that she has been 
obliged to believe me a forger ! Oh ! 
I did not wish to make her still more 
unhappy by telling her what I sus- 
pect — -" 

" What is it ? 
[to be continued.] 




The diversity of attractions, wild I 
scenic beauty, and perhaps more than j 
all, the generous, frank and warm heart- ! 
ed character of the inhabitants, has j 
lured large numbers of summer tourists 
within the limits of tin's grand old town, 
and the favored ones who pass the heat- 
ed term in this delightful locality, carry 
away with them not only restored health 
and eurickened energies, but a sweet j 
remembrance, of the good people with j 
whom they hj.\c been associated. Like j 
its parent Scotish town, Dunbarton j 
boasts of many hills whose bold j 
outlines, sharply defined against the j 
sky, give character and animation to j 
the fertile valleys lying proudly at their j 
base. Prolific nature, aided by the guid- ! 
ing hand of man, gives forth a boun- 
teous harvest, and green swards of the 
tender blade relieve the heavy forest | 
foliage. That her sons are thrifty none ' 
can doubt, for the well filled barns end 
tidy homes give evidence of a prosper- 
ous race. But to produce this happy 
result was not the work of a year or 
decade, and those who laid the foun- 
dation of the town were beset by nu- 
merous obstacles, any oi which might 
well deter the stoutest heart from 
venturing. The town fathers, however. 
were descendants of a people that knew 
no fear, save that for their Maker; and 
by their indomitable courage, forti- 
tude and self-denying heroism, conquer- 
ed all their foes and firmly engraved 
their glorious victory upon tablets of 
native granite. The first settlement 
was made about 1735, D >' Joseph and 
William Putney, James Rogers and 
Obediah Foster, who came from Rum- 
ford (now Concord), and located in 
the eastern part of the town, at a place 
called "Great Meadow." Mere they 
erected log houses, planted fruit trees 
and set about improving the land. When 
a body of Indians appeared in the vi- 
cinity of Rumford, two friends of 

Rogers made their way by "spotted"' 
trees to warn the settlers of the danger. 
They found one of the families engaged 
in cooking for supper and the other 
churning. Upon the receipt of the 
alarming intelligence they at once 
abandoned their homes, " leaving the 
meat to fry itself away and the cream 
to churn itself to butter," and during 
the night succeeded in reaching Rum- 
ford. Returning the next day to drive 
their cattle to the garrison, they found 
them all slaughtered, their houses plun- 
dered and burned, and the apple trees 
cut down. Three years later Messrs. 
Putney and Rogers made a permanent- 
settlement, though they had procured 
no title to the land, but their posses- 
sion was confirmed by the proprietors, 
who, in 1 75 1, obtained a grant of the 
township. The extensive range of 
meadow land already cleared by the 
industrious farmers was particularly 
adapted to agriculture and was rich in 
the kind of grass called "blue-joint." 
The name given by the settlers was 
" Mountalona," from a place where 
they once dwelt in Ireland, for religious 
oppression had driven them from their 
ancestral homes in Scotland. We can 
but admire the intrepidity of this little 
band in removing so far away from the 
garrison at a time frought with so many 
dangers, for although the Indian war 
ended about this time, the peace was 
not of that substantial character which 
ensures perfect security. It is more 
than likely that the pioneers were sus- 
picious of their former foes, for a long 
time after the cessation of hostilities, 
and even while pursuing their daily 
avocations, they were ever on the alert 
to detect the cat-like tread of the 
treacherous red-skins. They had not 
forgotten the devastation of their 
farms and homes, and the massa- 
cre on the Hopkinton road was still 
fresh in their minds. Rut the reniem- 



brance of these scenes, while ii served 
to increase their caution, rendered 
them only the more determined in their 
enterprise. Mr. Rogers was the father 
of Major Robert Rogers, celebrated as 
a leader of the rangers in the French 
and Indian war. The elder Rogers 
met with a singular and painful death 
in attempting to visit his friend Eben- 
e/er Ayer. Mr. Aver, who was a hunter 
of no little renown, had been in quest 
of game during the day, and returning 
to camp earl}' in the evening was still 
on the lookout for a bear, when Mr. 
Rogers appeared. Mistaking his friend 
(who was dressed in a bear-skin suit ) 
for an animal of that species, he fired 
and mortally wounded him. Mr. Ayer 
was intensely grieved at the accident 
and could never relate the occurrence 
without shedding tears. At the time 
of this settlement, Concord (or Rum- 
ford) had about 350 inhabitants, Bow 
not more than five families, and GorTs- 
town might have had a Iqw inhabitants, 
though it is very doubtful, while Hop- 
kmton had been settled ten years. In 
1751, the twenty-fourth year of the reign 
of George the Second, King of England, 
and during the provincial administra- 
tion of Benning Went worth as gover- 
nor of New Hampshire, arrangements 
were made fur a regular settlement of 
the town, the included territory being 
granted by the assigns of John Tufton 
Mason to Archibald Stark, Caleb Paige, 
Hugh Ramsey and others. This grant 
embraced a territory five miles square, 
and included a portion of the present 
town of Hooksett. The next settle- 
ment was made in the western part of 
the town, by William Sanson, Thomas 
Mills and John Hogg. These; families 
were for a time three miles apart, with 
no intervening neighbors, and we can 
imagine the sense of loneliness which 
would at times enter their hearts despite 
the cheerful character of their natures. 
During the day the cares of the farm 
would engross their attention, but when 
the setting sun had proclaimed the 
hour of parting day, " and all the earth 
a solemn stillness wore," they must 
have keenly felt their isolation and 
sometimes deeply sighed for the homes 

which they had left. To add to the 
dreariness of the long winter nights, 
savage beasts rent the air with yelps and 
howls till children trembling buried 
their heads in the pillows and sterner 
hearts still feared the inroads of their 
skulking foes. The first child born in 
this town was probably Sarah Mills, 
daughter of the above mentioned 
Thomas Mills, although Stark, the his- 
torian says, "We are inclined to believe 
that the first child born upon the terri- 
tory was one of the family of James 
Rogers or Joseph Putney, who settled 
upon it several years prior to 1746, to 
the oldest sons of whom lots of land 
were granted in 1752." From this time 
emigrants flocked to all parts of the 
town, some coming direct from Scot- 
land, others from Haverhill, Ipswich, 
Salem, Topsfield and other Massachu- 
setts towns, until in 1770 Dunbarton 
boasted of its 497 inhabitants, being 
two thirds of its present population. 
These people, actuated by a rove for 
their new homes and assisted by the 
generous hand o( nature, rapidly devel- 
oped those resources which have added 
wealth and importance to the town. 
The building of highways was one of 
the first improvements, and as early as 
1 760 we find notice of roads being laid 
out, and the main highway running 
through the western part of the town 
was probably established long before. 
This was the principal route to Poston 
from central New Hampshire, and for 
years these hills resounded with the 
busy strains of travel. The whirling 
coach threw clouds of dust to blind 
the teamster's sight, and the rumbling 
of its wheels brought many a head to 
the windows whose narrow panes afford- 
ed but a limited view of the "Fast 

In 1 760, lot No. 12, in the 4th range 
containing too acres, was granted to 
Captain John Stark (afterwards Gen- 
eral), upon condition that he build a 
saw-mill, the same to be put in opera- 
tion within one year. The condition 
was fulfilled. Captain William Stinson 
erected the next mill. 

Religion and education received 
prompt attention, and in 1752 a vote 



was passed that a meeting-house should I 
be built ''within five years from May j 
next ensuing." The house was finished i 
in 1 767 and remained twenty-five years, 
when it was removed to make way for 
a more pretentious edifice. The first 
school master who taught in Dunbar- 
ton. was a Mr. Hogg — commonly called 
" Master Hogg." The first female 
teacher was Sarah Clement. With the 
facilities now afforded for mental cul- 
ture, we can hardly conceive of a more 
disheartening task than the acquire- 
ment of an education under the adverse 
circumstances of the eighteenth centu- 
ry. In these schools very few of the 
scholars possessed text hooks, so the 
teacher gave out the problems and the 
pupils were expected to return the an- 
swer without a repetition. The way 
must have been blind indeed, but their 
victories over the '"hard sums '" and 
difficult passages were conquests of 
which they were justly proud, and 
which fitted diem to win even greater 
laurels in the contest for liberty. 

For several years the nearest grist- 
mill was at Concord, to winch the set- 
tlers carried their grists upon their backs 
in summer, and in winter drew them 
upon hand sleds through a path marked 
by spotted trees. From the forest 
trees these hardy pioneers made mort- 
ars in which to render the corn lit for 
making samp, the use of which they 
had learned from the Indians.. Among 
the impediments which the early settlers 
encountered in clearing and burning 
over the land, were the " King's trees." 
These trees were marked by the King's 
surveyors for use in the royal navy, and 
any damage which occurred to them 
subjected the offender to a considera- 
ble fine. Notwithstanding the difficul- 
ties, hardships and privations which 
compassed them round about, these 
sturdy foresters seem to have lost none 
of their good courage, and that they 
were wont to enjoy themselves upon 
occasions, is manifest from the frequent 
occurrence of horse-races, while husk- 
iugs, flax-breakings, apple-parings and 
house-raisings were joyful scenes to 
the people of those days. A few of 
their industrial pastimes are still in 

vogue, and during our stay in Dunbar- 
ton we attended a regular old-fashioned 
husking at the residence of Mr. J. C. 
Mills. Tin's sketch does nut admit of 
a description of that festive occasion. 
but many readers of the Granite 
Monthly will recall with pleasure the 
merry hours of that night. It was cus- 
tomary in olden times, at raisings and 
upon other occasions when people as- 
sembled in numbers. to assist voluntari- 
ly in performing tasks which required 
the strength of many, to keep up good 
cheer by trials of strength and gymnas- 
tic exercises. Among these pastimes 
wrestling matches were, perhaps, the 
most popular, and men who had dis- 
tinguished themselves in tin's art were 
known to each other by reputation, al- 
though residing in distant towns. It 
was the habit of such notable individ- 
uals to travel many miles to try a fall 
at wrestling with other champions, al- 
though entire strangers. An anecdote 
exemplifies this species of wrestling, 
although the result was not, perhaps, 
satisfactory to the knight who came so 
far to obtain a fall. A person called at 
the house of John McNiel, of London- 
derry, in consequence of having heard 
of his strength and prowess. McNiel 
was absent, which circumstance the 
stranger regretted exceedingly — as he 
informed his wife, Christian, who en- 
quired his business — since he had trav- 
eled many miles for no other purpose 
than to " throw him." " And troth 
mon," said Christian McNiel, "Johnny 
is gone, but I'm not the woman to sec 
ye disappointed, an' if ye'll try. mon, 
I'll throw ye meself." The stranger 
not liking to be bantered by a woman, 
accepted the challenge ; and sure- 
enough, Christian tripped has heels and 
threw him to the ground. The strang- 
er upon getting up thought he would 
not wait for " Johnny," but disappeared 
without leaving his name. 

Granite is a dr.iii; in the Dumbarton 
market as the long lines o( stone wall 
and huge heaps of loos; stone in many 
of the fields attest, and this feature 
of the town has led to man) jokes, 
some of which are quite as turd as any 
quartz formation. On the Concord 



road, between the Centre and Page's 
Corner, is a pound for stray cattle, 

instructed in that substantial manner 
* J j ich clearly indicates an abundance 
« f material. Near by, in a house now 
hlackened by age and continued war- 
ring against the elements, lived Cap- 
I tin John Stinson. As thai gentleman 
ivas standing in his door one day, a 
person driving by stopped his horse, 
and, pointing to the pound, inquired 
what that structure was. "That is a 
pound," said Captain John. "And 
where," said the stranger, " did they 
find all those rocks to build it with?" 
••(.), we pieked them up about here,'" 
replied Captain John. " Well," said 
the man. " I have been looking around 
and didn't miss any, :->o I thought they 
must have been brought from a dis- 
; nee ; good day." 

The Stinsons are among the oldest 
families of Dunbarton, Captain William 
having come to town in 1752. He 
was obliged to bring everything from 
Londonderry, a journey to which town 
in those days was quite an undertaking. 
One day his cow, being salt hungry, 
captured a piece of salt pork, and it 
being all the meat in the house, caused 
no little annoyance. At a visit of Min- 
ister McGregor, Mr. S. having no table, 
turned a basket upside down and placed 
the dinner thereon, so when Mr. Mc- 
Gregor said grace, he prayed that he 
might be blessed in basket and. in store. 
Fiis son, W. C. Stinson, has a splendid 
farm of 700 acres on the New Boston 
road. Mr. Stinson, who deals largely 
in siock. ha^ a fine barn 140 feet by 42 
feet, within whose capacious depths 
are packed, at the present writing, 100 
tons of hay. 300 bushels of corn, and 
other produce in proportion ; while the 
house, to our present knowledge, con- 
tains an abundance of generous hospi- 
tality. Among the larger farms we men- 
tion those of Oliver Bailey, David 
Story, J P.Jameson, John O. Merrill, 
j. C. Mills and David Parker. All of j 
these are under a high state of cultiva- ': 
lion and are models of neatness. It is I 
a common saying that the character of j 
a man may Ik judged by the appear- | 
ance of his dour-yard. If this be true, | 

the farmers oi Dunbarton are certainly 
beyond reproach, and we cannot ven- 
der that the young men are loth to 
leave these pleasant homes for the un- 
certain fortunes of the outer world. 
Dunbarton. however, contributes large- 
ly to the galaxy of eminent men whom 
the Granite State is proud to claim, and 
her people are ever ready to respond 
to the nation's call. In her cemeteries 
lie many brave hearts whose lives were 
sacrifice! upon the field of battle, and 
in that storm which threatened to rend 
the flag in twain, scores of Dumbarton's 
valiant men forsook the peaceful quiet 
of their homes and suffered and died 
to preserve unsullied the honor of our 
glorious banner. No need, O history ! 
to record their names, nor yet for lov- 
ing hands to place the emblems o'er 
their graves : the memory of their no- 
ble deeds will live forever in the hearts 
of their countrymen, as they look upon 
the dear old flag so often bathed in the 
blood of its defenders. 

The educational advantages of Dun- 
barton are unexcelled by any town of 
its size in the State. The substantial 
school-houses are an honor to the town 
and in the selection of teachers for 
the year the committee have won de- 
served praise. The position of teacher 
in a district school is one that requires 
a thorough education, knowledge of 
human nature, and no end of patience. 
Since all grades attend the same school 
the instructor is obliged to jump from 
algebra to the first primer without a 
moment's warning, to teach the rudi- 
ments of the English language and 
prepare the advanced pupil for the 
highest of graded schools. It is a 
curious fact in this connection that a 
native of Dunbarton has graduated 
from some college every year since the 
town received its charter. Many of 
the collegiates have filled prominent 
positions, while not a few have become 
distinguished. Among the more nota- 
ble now living, are George A. Putnam, 
an eminent divine, settled at Mifbury, 
Mass. ; Ephraim O Jameson, Congre- 
gationalism settled at Yv'est Med way, 
Mass.; Henry E. Burnham, a promi- 
nent lawyer of Manchester ; Mark Bai- 


ley, Professor of Elocution and Rhet- 
oric, at Yale, and Lafayette Story, a 
wealthy resident of California. 

Perhaps it would be impossible to 
offer a better proof oi the prosperity 
of the town than to mention that it is 
free from debt, has money in the treas- 
ury, a&d does not support a pauper, a 
lawyer, or a doctor, and one of the 
strongest reasons for this, happy state 
of things is that no liquor is sold in the 

During our stay we visited many 
aged people, the most remarkable of 
whom were Mrs. Story, who is 97 years 
of age, and Mrs. Whipple, aged 94. 
Both of these ladies are in the enjoy- 
ment of all their faculties and have 
every appearance of becoming cen- 
tenarians. In bidding Mrs. Whipple 
good -day, she followed us to the door 
and said, "Tell them I came to the 
door to see you off." 

During the last few years the beauties 
of Dunbarton have become more wide- 
ly known, and the locality is getting to 
be quite famous as a summer resort. 
An idea of the range of vision may be 
obtained from the following : Standing 
in Mr. Stinson's door we could see 
with the naked eye, Mounts Wachusett, 
Monadnock, the Uncanoonucs, Kear- 
saree, Mbosilauke, and the Franco- 

nia range ; while Mount Washington in- 
visible from several points. In travel- 
ling a mile one can see land in even- 
town in Merrimack county — with the 
exception of Wilmot, which is hidden 
b}' Mount Kearsarge — and at least. 
three fourths of the land in Hillsbo- 
rough and a part of Rockingham coun- 
ties. In fact ona can see land in every 
county in the State, with the exception 
of Strafford, and the tops of mountains 
in Vermont and Massachusetts. The 
Centre offers, perhaps, the most attrac- 
tions for summer tourists, and here, 
upon a site commanding an unrivalled 
view of the surrounding country, is locat- 
ed the Prospect House. For the past 
season this hotel has been under the 
management of Mr. j. S. W. 1're^ton. 
a gentleman who has won hosts of 
friends, both among the towns-people 
and the travelling public. The com- 
modious house of Mr. J. A. Chamber- 
lin is also a favorite resort, and people 
who have been fortunate enough to 
obtain rooms there, speak verv highly 
of that hostelry. His son, Mr. O. A. 
1 1.Chamberlin, is proprietor of the well- 
known Snowrlake Publishing House. 
Two churches, the post-office, and the 
town-hall are also located at the Cen- 
tre, which is, in fact, the Hub of the 
Dunbarton Universe. 



Thomas L. Tullock, Jr., Paymaster 
U. S. Navy, eldest son of Thomas Lo- 
gan Tullock and Emily Estell Tullock, 
was born August 13, 1845, m tne c *ty 
of New York, where his parents were 
temporarily residing. About two 
months thereafter, Mr. Tullock returned 
to his native city, Portsmouth, New 
Hampshire, remaining there until June, 
1858, when the family removed to 
Concord, N. 11., residing there three 
years, thence to Portsmouth. 

Thomas attended the public schools 
at Portsmouth and Concord, and was 
afterwards a diligent student at the New 
Hampshire Conference Seminary at 
Tiiton, making great proficiency in his 
studies. He subsequently entered 
(i860) Philips Exeter Academy, pre- 
paratory to a collegiate course, with the 
design of adopting the profession ot 
law. He early displayed marked abil- 
ity in debate in the debasing society at 
Portsmouth, Concord and Tiiton. and 



the fluency, grace and logic of the 
youthful orator gave promise of emi- 
nence in the profession which he in- 
tended to follow. The rebellion caused 
; m ' r reat disquietude, and Ins 
anxiety to enter the service was 
such as to induce his father, who 
k vas then Navy Agent at Portsmouth, 
N. HL, to withdraw him from school 
and require his services as clerk in his 
office, where he became familiar with 
;. ival accounts and regulations. But 
he craved active participation in the 
war, and determined it should not be 
said of him, that he took no part in the 
conflict, lie was accustomed to say, 
"I must be either in the field or on the 
wave," and on making application he 
was appointed in the volunteer service. 
May t r, 1863. as Acting Assistant Pay- 
master U. S. Navy, and was ordered 
to the U. S. steamer Adela, May 18, 
1S63, which, after cruising in pursuit 
of confederate armed vessels, returned 
to the harbor of New York and guarded 
important interests during the memora- 
ble riots in that city; thence to Hamp- 
ton Roads and the coasts of South 
Carolina, and then joining the Gulf 
Squadron, blockading the western 
coast of Florida, and co-operating with 
and aiding the land expeditions against 
Tampa and elsewhere. The yellow 
fever was very prevalent, part of the 
time, but he escaped the contagion. 

Paymaster Tullock was detached 
from the Adda, December 9, 1864, 
and assigned to duty on board the U. 
S. steamer Paul Jones, March 9, 1865, 
joining the Gulf Squadron. Pie left 
the ship at New Orleans, October 1 1, 
i860, having been appointed by the 
Presidefit and continued by the Senate 
as Passed Assistant Paymaster in the reg- 
ular navy. July 23, 1866, and passed a 
most creditable examination at Philadel- 
phia, in December, 1866. During the 
brief period in which he was relieved 
from ship duty, he acted as Judge Ad- 
vocate of Naval Courts Martials, at 
Norfolk and Philadelphia, to great sat- 
isfaction, lie was ordered to the U. 
S. si earner Oneida, Captain G. Blakely 
Creighton, April 23, 1S67. to report 
May 8, and sailed from New York, 

I May 19, 1867, via Cape de Verde 

! Islands, Rio de Janerio and 

Cape Town, to join the Asiatic 

Squadron, visiting most of the ports in 
Siam,( "lima, Japan and the North China 
Seas. Pie was promoted and confirmed 
full paymaster, March 3, 1869. 

On die evening of the 24. th of Jan- 
uary. 1870, the Oneida, Captain Ed- 
ward P. Williams, steamed slowly away 
from Yokohama with her homeward- 
bound pennant flying, when, near Sara- 
toga Spit, fifteen miles or more down 
the Pay of Yokohama, she collided with 
the peninsular and oriental (English) 
large iron mail steamer Bombay, Cap- 
tain Eyre, and in fifteen minutes went 
down, firing in distress her heavy guns, 
which happened to be loaded. She 
was but partially supplied with boats, 
only two serviceable, having lost 
most of her complement in a cyclone in 
the North China Seas, otherwise 
most if not all the lives might have 
been rescued. Of 176 officers and 
crew, only 4 officers and 57 men 
were saved, and as the U. S. consul 
wrote. '■ almost without exception, the 
officers spurned the use of boats and 
met death bravely, calmly, heroically, 
at their posts." 

The Oneida,^ staunch wooden screw 
steamer, had proved a most efficient 
cruiser, and was considered one of the 
gems of our naval marine. She was 
in the passage of Forts Jackson and St. 
Philip, and the subsequent fighting on 
the Mississippi ; was at the taking of 
Mobile and had an honorable record. 
Her length was sir feet; tonnage, 
1695; guns, 8. When lost she had 
on board 24 officers and 152 men. At 
about 5 o'clock p. m., January 24. 
1870, the Oneida weighed anchor and 
steamed out of the harbor of Yokoha- 
ma, Japan, homeward-bound. It was a 
fine evening, sharp and wintry, but 
with a clear sky, stiff breeze, and the 
water of the bay smooth. As she suc- 
cessively passed the various ships of 
war, they manned the rigging and gave 
cheer after cheer that resounded far 
and wide. The Oneida sped on, the 
I fading twilight deepened into gloom of 
; night and her outline rapidly blended 


with the darkness. Without describing 

the cause of the coliding, it appears 
that when but a short distance oil the 
Bombay changed her course, heading 
direct))' for the Oneida, attempting to 
cross her bows. Her sharp, iron prow 
cut into the wooden sides of the 
Oneida, tearing diagonally through her 
quarter and leaving a gaping wound. 
Her quarter boat was crushed, and the 
poop, spanker boom and gaff, wheel, 
binnacle, and most likely the rudder and 
propeller carried away. While the 
Bombay lay across the Oneida's stern 
the executive officer hailed : " Steamer 
ahoy ! you have cut us down ; remain by 
us." The Oneida's steam whistle was in- 
stantly turned 011 and kept blowing, and 
guns were fired, but the Bombay steam- 
ed on to Yokohama, without lowering 
a boat or for a moment heading in the 
direction of the sinking ship. Nay, 
worse, with even the malicious boast of 
Captain Eyre, that " he had cut the 
quarter off a Yankee frigate, and it 
served her right." This remark is 
quoted horn the testimony of a British 
naval officer, before the British court 
of inquiry. 

After the collision the Oneida fired 
heavy guns indicating distress, and 
continued firing until she sunk. At 
Yokohama the sound of the guns were 
distinctly heard. The stern part of the 
Oneida in which the rockets were kept 
had been carried away, and the guns 
alone could be used to appeal to the 
Bombay for assistance. The Oneida 
sunk in about 15 minutes after the col- 
lision. It is generally conceded that 
the evidence clearly proves that no 
blame is to be attached to the officers 
and crew of the Oneida. 

A naval officer writes substantially 
that although Captain Eyre left a tem- 
porary stain on the name of a British 
sailor, let it not be forgotten that British 
sailors nobly came forward and render- 
ed efficient aid. British sailors helped 
search for the Oneida's drowned. 
British sailors paid befitting obsequies to 
her recovered dead, and British royal 
marines fired the requiem volleys o'er 
the grave of the Oneida's captain. 
The action of the British and Russian 


naval officers was generous in pro- 
ceeding with our American officers and 
men to the wreck at the earliest pos- 
sible moment, but they reluctantly re- 
turned unable to find the bodies of our 

Paymaster Tullock refused to leave 
the sinking ship in the life boat man- 
ned by the surgeon, the boatswain and 
15 of the crew. It was his option, but 
he preferred to take his chances for 
life with the officers and men who re- 
mained at their posts of duty. Thus 
perished an accomplished and gallant 
officer in that Asia-tic night, one whose 
manly virtues and noble spirit, whose 
unsullied and beautiful character has 
been truthfully portrayed by officers 
who were his intimate friends. 

A correspondent writing to the Prov- 
idence Journal concerning the Oneida 
disaster, said : " The Paymaster was 
Thomas L. Tullock, Jr. I never saw- 
any one that met him who did not 
love him. Gentle and winning in his 
deportment, his personal attractions, 
for a man, had such tenderness and 
grace, that, before you knew it, he had 
won your affection and esteem. A 
most honorable war record has been 
followed by a spotless official and pri- 
vate reputation." 

Another, a naval officer, writing from 
Japan, said : " Among the officers of 
the Oneida there was no one more 
prized and better loved than Paymaster 
Tullock, no one, now that he has gone, 
is spoken of more often and more 
regretfully. He was of such a genial 
disposition, so full of life and sunshine, 
so generous and unselfish, that he 
won his way right to our very hearts. 
He was a most excellent officer, one 
of the best in the corps, taking great 
pride in his office, and performing all 
its functions with exactitude and 

The U. S. consul at Yeddo, in a let- 
ter which was published, said : "I loved 
that officer from the time we met, was 
drawn towards hum with a strange feel- 
ing I cannot explain, such as a man 
seldom entertains for another. Time 
served only to develop his generous 
qualities and enhance his loss. A no- 


bier, truer son never honored a father 
or deserved the love and affection of a 
mother. His virtues were legion, his 
faults, if any, few. He was a young 
officer of great promise and merit, and 
to have been so inhumanly sacrificed 
adds additional poignancy to the be- 

Another consular agent writing, 
said : " Thrice I passed the sad spot 
where your honored son passed from 
duty here to reward in heaven. All 
was calm, not a ripple on tire placid 
deep — a lit emblem of the repose of a 
soul forever at rest. Near the spot a 
noble mountain gently threw its shadow 
on the quiet waters, and in turn was 
mirrored far down in the deep profound. 
That mountain is nature's monument 
to the memory of a noble youth, a 
dutiful and losing son, and the favorite 
of all who knew him." 

Another, writing from Yokohama, 
said : u Among the number who per- 
ished was Paymaster Tullock. Deep 
and earnest are the words of affection 
exchanged for him, and many are the 
eyes unaccustomed to tears that grow 
dim at the mention of his name. Pie 
was a son to be proud of, a friend never 
to be forgotten." 

U. S. Consul Shepard, at Yedclo, 
wrote : "On the morning of the 24th, 
our American Minister and myself 
made official calls upon the foreign 
ships of war in the harbor, and by in- 
vitation of the officers returned at one 
o'clock to the Oneida for breakfast, 
after which Paymaster Tullock and 
myself walked the deck and exchanged 
vows of friendship. Me spoke so ten- 
derly of his father and mother, and 
brother, of his love for them and the 
unspeakable longings he had to see 
them again. He added, ; my father 
wants me to leave the navy, and I 
have fully made up my mind to do so 
soon after I reach home.' He gave 
me the enclosed photograph, and on it 
is almost the last writing he dick about 
4 o'clock p. m. of that day. The la-t 
seen of him he was standing on the 
main deck with a wooden grating in 
his hand, but the suction of the ship 
sinking may have taken him down im- 

mediately. Pie said to one of the offi- 
cers, ' It's no use, we're going dew;].' 
Noble boy ! not to you and yours only, 
sir, but to the navy, the country and 
the world, are such as he a los^. Ten- 
derly, earnestly, lovingly, shall his re- 
mains be searched for, and if found, 
speedily forwarded. Should! any of the 
many beautiful things he. had gathered 
to surprise his father, gratify his moth- 
er and please his brother be recovered, 
they too, shall be faithfully transmitted." 

A U. S. government official wrote 
of him : " I can never forget the hour 
I spent on deck of the Oneidu, with 
Paymaster Tullock, on the day of the 
fatal 24th of January last. 1 distinctly 
remember the beautiful and vivid pic- 
ture he painted, of what I so deeply 
miss and teai fully remember — home. 
Of his mother, so dear to him — with 
an affection and love burning brightly 
and ever the same — a holy beacon 
which had guided him safely upon 
his course in life, and ever directing to 
a safe and peaceful harbor. Of his 
father, whose example, and the thoughts 
of whom grew upon him day by day. 
Plow that, whenever an honor was be- 
stowed or a promotion given, his first 
thought was, how it would gratify 
his father. He spoke of his name and 
how proud he was to bear his father's 
full name. It was an incentive to his 
ambition, to do something to add to 
its worth and honor." 

In an extended article in the ^Wash- 
ington Cdironicle of March 13, 1S70 — 
"In Memoriam of the Gallant Unforgot- 
ten Dead" — probably contributed by a 
schoolmate then in the Navy Depart- 
ment, is the following extract relating 
to the subject of this sketch : "Paymas- 
ter Thomas L. Tullock, jr., was of no- 
ble mind, genial spirit, high toned in 
action and bearing, brave and true in 
heart, and possessing a character with- 
out a blemish. 'Hie pure and cher- 
ished name of TlV departed, who was 
lost on the ill-iated Oneida, on the 
evening of January 24, at Yokohama 
Pay, will live in the memory of those 
who knew him, as long as life shall 
last. He possessed all the qualities of 
a perfect gentleman, and, though his 



young life has been taken away while 
in the service of his country, his name 
will live. Pie has left a proud record 

in the hearts of those to whom he al- 
ways proved a generous friend and 

The Hiogo News of January 29, 
1870, has a long editorial respecting 
the catastrophe. In it we read : "And 
what shall we say of those — our friends 
and companions, the familiar voices 
that were as household words, the wel- 
come guests that sat at our boards, the 
smiling faces of Williams, Stewart, Tul- 
lock, Frothingham, Muldaur, Thomas, 
and the rest — that were wont to grace 
our firesides, and who will be seen 
among lib no more. Shall we say there 
is a grief too sacred to cross the con- 
fines of the family circle of friends that 
mourn the taking-off of these young 
hearts in the heyday and spring-time 
of life? Shall we speak of the bright 
vista of happiness — -no secret in this 
community — with which these toilers 
of the sea were wont to regale us at 
the joyful anticipations of home, to 
which the\- expected soon to return. * 
* * Yet we cannot forbear the wish 
that the honors of a noble death had 
been theirs — theirs a more fitting maus- 
oleum than the bosom of the ocean." 

Commander -Stoddard, who com- 
manded the Adela, bears testimony 
concerning him as follows : "You 
must feel deeply the loss of such a son, 
and deeply will all who had the pleas- 
ure of his friendship sympathize with 
you. During his cruise with us in the 
An'cla, he was my constant companion. 
I then had the opportunity of knowing 
him, and appreciated his generous dis- 
position and unswerving attachment 
to the arduous duties of his profession. 
With a happy faculty very lew possess, 
he made friends of strangers, and I 
can truly say that his life was without 
reproach. His loss is a heavy afflic- 
tion, but we are comforted with the 
thought that his name and deeds will 

Williams at I Jong Kong. April 17, 
1 S 6 9 , also added his tribute to the 
memory of the departed : " I have 
several times attempted to write to 
you, but my heart has failed me. I de- 
sire much to express my deep sympa- 
thy and sorrow for the sad fate of your. 

pride an< 

ever be remembered with 

Captain I. Blakeley Creighton, now 
Commodore, who commanded the 
Oneida until relieved by Commander 

noble son, who to me was a very 
dear friend. It may be a pleasure to 

you to hear from one who knew him 
well, and can testily to all his noble 
qualities. Words cannot express your 
sorrow, or what J feel. He was belov- 
ed by all who knew him ; generous, 
kind and affectionate, he was without 
reproach, and I looked forward to his 
coming home, as one great happiness 
to me. to take him by the hand again. 
We will keep his memory fresh in our 
minds, and when we can speak of Ins 
noble character and manly virtues, the 
opportunity should not be lost. Cod 
must have loved him, for all that knew 
him loved him. We shall never see 
his like again. How much I think of 
him. It appears impossible, at times, 
to realize so sad a bereavement." 

At the high school reunion, at 
Portsmourth, N. H., July 5, 1873. one 
of the speakers. Frank W. Hackett, 
Esq., late Paymaster U. S. Navy, said, 
in response to the sentiment, " The 
Navy : " Portsmouth proudly claims her 
share in the lustre of its achievements. 
Put there comes up before me the vis- 
ion of one young man to whom I 
must briefly refer. A young man 
known to some of you, a little younger 
than myself, cast in a slender mould, 
with a voice as sweet and delicate, 
almost, as that of a woman, around 
whom there was ever sunshine, who 
went forth from these streets with many 
a friendly clasp of the hand, and many 
a 'Cod speed,' and who stood upon 
the deck of the Oneida as she took 
that sudden plunge to the deep below, 
when was uttered that memorable sen- 
tence, 'I will not leave my post until 
regularly relieved.' 1 Then passed away 
Thomas L. Tullock. Jr., of the Oneida, 
and in him we see a type of the young 
men reared in Portsmouth, and taught 
in our high schools." 

At a meeting of the Methodist Social 


4 7 

Union, of which Governor William 
Clafiin was President, held in the Wes- 
leyan Association Hall, on Broomfield 
Street, Boston, in January, iSyr, Mr. 
Tullock was called upon to address 
tl _■ meeting. His closing remarks, as 
reported by the Boston Journal, Janua- 
ry 16, were as follows : t: As a token of 
my appreciation of the Methodist Theo- 
logical Seminary (now Boston Uni- 
versity), in which you are particularly 
interested, I donate $1000 towards 
its permanent endowment, the princi- 
pal to be funded, and the interest ap- 
plied in sustaining the institution. I 
contribute not in my own name, bur as 
desired from a dearly beloved and 
fondly cherished son. who was familTar 
with the institution before its removal 
from Concord, N. H., to Boston. To 
his memory I raise this monument, 
more beneficial, and I trust more en- 
during than granite shaft or marble 
tablature. I may, at a future time, add 
to its proportions, but I cannot do any- 
thing commensurate to his manly "vir- 
tues and spirit, or expressive of my esti- 
mate of his unsullied and beautiful 
character. In memory of that accom- 
plished and gallant officer, of whom I 
was justly proud, I dedicate the sum 
1 have mentioned, to charity and pious 
teachings, in aiding indigent students 
preparing for the gospel ministry. In 
memory, therefore, of the late Paymas- 
ter, Thomas L. Tullock, Jr., a noble 
young man of great promise, ability 
and purity, who, having survived the 
perils of battle, storm and pestilence, 
was inhumanly sacrificed by the sink- 
ing of the U. S. steamer Oneida, in the 
Hay of Yokohama, Japan, on the 24th of 
January last, I dedicate this benefaction 
to this sacred cause, and send it forth 
on its errand of usefulness. Let it be 
considered as his gift, and when I am 
forgotten may it be performing its 
beneficent mission. May its influence 
be felt as from Him 'who, though dead, 
yet speaketh,' in this testimonial which 
I offer as a tribute to departed worth, 
and in testimony to my intense and 
unfaltering affection to his precious 
memory. My heart is shadowed by 
his absence. The child of my early 

love, who bore my name — my first born, 
whose presence was sunshine to every 
circle, has passed from earth. May 
we hope that through the infinite mer- 
cy, the great compassion, the immeas- 
urable love of the Father arid our Inter- 
cessor, he rests with the redeemed. I 
can say no more.'' 

The foregoine tributes to the 
memory of Paymaster Tullock 
have been selected from pub- 
lished notices which appeared in the 
newspapers just subsequent to the dis- 
aster. Many items of interest could be 
added to this sketch, by reading the 
intensely interesting and minutely de- 
scriptive letters received from him dur- 
ing his absence from home, and also 
the sympathizing letters from many of 
his friends, but an instinctive reluctanee 
to re- peruse them prevents. It would 
be afflictive. A sufficient number of 
the tributes have been given to indi- 
cate the high estimate of his friends 
and associates of his personal qualities 
as a man in the symmetrical beauty oi 
his life. 

Paymaster Tullock was warmly com- 
mended, almost from the outset, to the 
Navy Department, by the Fleet Pay- 
masters under whom he served. His 
thorough knowledge, and the prompt 
and intelligent discharge of the duties 
of his office, placed him among the 
foremost of his grade. There were 
a large number of Acting Assistant Pay- 
masters commissioned in the volunteer 
service, but he was promoted to the 
regular navy without being an appli- 
cant, and selected by the government 
solely on account of his aptitude and 
capacity to fill creditably the position 
to which he was designated. He had 
purposed relinquishing the service, 
when the war should close, and enter 
upon the profession he had early de- 
cided to follow — the study and practice 
of law. An interesting chapter could 
be written, tracing his movements from 
the time he entered the navy, 'out I 
will allude to a few only, given mainly 
from recollection, without recourse to 
his letters, which graphically describe 
everything occurring during his several 
cruises, worthy of record Paymaster 

4 8 


Tullock stood deserved))- high in the 
esteem of all his commanding officers. 
Regarded as a great favorite, with 
pleasing presence and' address, he 
almost invariably constituted one of 
the party in all official visitations, jour- 
neyings, and sight-seeings. 

At Rio de Janerio, July, 1869, he 
was piesent at the grand naval ball, at 
the Casino, in honor of Prince Alfred 
of England ( Duke of Edinburgh), 
who was at that port in command of 
the T/ie/is, bearing the jroyal standard. 
The Emperor of Brazil and the Royal 
Family, together with the diplomatists 
and officers of the naval vessels in the 
harbor, participated in the festivities — 
all in full dress uniforms. Prince 
Alfred sailed the next day, when all the 
men-of-war in the harbor manned 
yards and saluted, presenting a magni- 
ficent spectacle. 

Again at Cape Town, Africa, in Sep- 
tember. 1869, Prince Alfred arrived at 
that port, and was properly noticed and 
saluted. He came onboard the Oneida 
on two or three occasion. A grand 
ball or reception was given by him on 
the 20th of September, in return of 
the compliments to his honor at Cape 
Town, to which the officers of the 
Oneida were invited. 

Also, a superb banquet to the offi- 
cers of the Oneida, by II. M. 99th, at 
the castle. 

In company with Captain Creighton. 
to whom he was devotedly attached, 
and three other officers, in March, 
1869. ne was present at the audience 
with the First King of Siam, who, sur- 
rounded by his nobles and prime min- 
isters, received them with great pomp 
and ceremony ; the next day, with the 
Second King of the Empire, and were 
treated in a royal manner ; also, sub- 
sequently participated in a royal ele- 
phant hunt, and were accorded great 
privileges in inspecting the many tem- 
ples, palaces and places of renown. 

They were also the recipients of dis- 
tinguished attention from the Japanese 
authorities, and had gorgeous recep- 
tions and marked previleges. Visited 
Sheba, or the burial place of the Ty- 
coons — a park of large dimensions, with 

broad avenues lined with magnificent 
old trees — a large number of exquisite 
ly constructed temples and mauso- 
leums, adorning the grounds. Foreign 
ers had never been admitted to the :a - 
ner park until about that time, when 
Sir Henry Parke, ol~ the English Em- 
bassy and his part)' had preceded them. 


was made at Hong Kong of two mas- 
sive pieces of granite, one weighing 
nine, the other fifteen tons, and bears 
the names of the twenty officers who 
perished when the Oneida sunk beneath 
the waves. It is in the shape of a pyra- 
mid, abaut fifteen feet high, and the 
inclination of the four faces at an angle 
of, perhaps, fifteen degrees. It stands 
in the centre of a square lot, which is 
surrounded by a hedge of evergreens. 
The front face has this inscription : 


The Officers una Men 

Mho went down in the I". S. S. "Owfcla," 

January 'M, 1870, 

when that vessel, homeward bmind, 

was sunk by the P. and O. Steamer "Bombay," 

off' Yokohama, Japan. 

On the other three faces, the names 
of the officers appear. 

Underneath the front face is a bas- 
relief, representing the sinking ot the 
Oneida, and the Bombay steaming 
away. On the base. 

Erected by the Officers and Men of the United 
States Asiatic Squadron. 

After diligent search of forty-one 
days, only three bodies were recovered, 
viz : Commander E. P. Williams, Car- 
penter J. P. Pinner, First-Class Fire- 
man Thomas Redely, and were buried 
with military honors. 

Hie three graves, covered with grass 
and carefully kept in order, are on one 
side of the obelisk, each with its head 
and foot stones — Commander A\ il- 
liarns reposing in the middle grave. 

Beautiful trees and shrubs grow 
about the enclosure, but none within it. 
The monument and the mounds alone 
tell the sad story. The situation is un- 
surpassed in its perfection of quiet 
loveliness. In the distance are hill 
with soft and flowing outlines, whi 
nearer the blue waters of the nay mur- 
mur a solemn requiem. 

WTO 6^^i>6Lj 





Vol. IV. 

5T0YBMBEE, 1880. 

ISTo. 2. 



from the mother 
the age of twenty-five., to 
dangers and overcome the 

One of the hardy pioneers of New 
England was William White. ' Born ir 
Norfolk County, England, in 1610, he 
was early surrounded by the influence 
snd teachings of the Puritans ; for vye 
find him embarking 
country a 
brave tire 

obstacles of a rude, unsettled wilder- 
ness, in the pursuit of religious free- 
dom and civil liberty. Behind, he left 
his native land under the tyrannical 
rule of Charles I ; the sturdy yeoman, 
in almost feudal vassalage ; the coun- 
try, on the eve of a terrible contest. 
In 1635 ne landed at Ipswich, Mass.. 
and took up his residence in Newbury. 
A new country, a 
unreclaimed, lay before him ; his d 
and those of his companions, can be 
traced in many a fair field, fruitful or- 
Ciard, row of shade-trees, the church, 
the school, the town-meeting, the idea 
o: liberty so dear to every American, 
the New England, the United States 
' ( to-day. From him, in direct line, 
Nathaniel White could trace his de- 

2. John White, the only son of 
William White, was born soon after his 
parents arrived in this country. He 
died in Haverhill, Mass., June 1. 

3- John White, second, the only 
son of [ohn White, was born March 8, 
1664 ; lived in Haverhill, Mass. : died 

great continent, 

November 20, 1727. His daughter 
was the mother of Gen. Moses Hazen 
and Capt. John Hazen. 

4. Nicholas White, son of John 
White, second, was born Dec. 4, 169S. 
In 1722 he married Hannah Aver. 
Their children were, Hannah, who 
married Samuel Blodgett, and settled 
in Goffstown ; Noah ; Abigail, bom in 
1730, died in 1750; Ebenezer, born 
in 1.731, settled in Newbury, Vt. 
After the death, of his first wife, Han- 
nah, Nicholas Y\ "hire married Mary 
Calf. Their children were : Joseph, 
born in 1734, who went to Canada 
during the Revolution ; Mary, born in 
1736, married Jacob Kent, of New- 
bury, Vt. ; Lydiu, born in 1738, mar- 
ried Benjamin Hale, of Atkinson ; 
William, born in 1739, died in Plais- 
tow, leaving three children ; John, 
bom in 1741, lived in Plaistow; Sam- 
uel, who died in infancy ; Elizabeth, 
born in 1 746, married Timothy Ayer, 
of- Bradford, Vt. ; Martha, born in 
1 748, married Joseph Dodge, of Ha- 
verhill, Mass.; Samuel, born in 1750, 
married and settled in Newbury, Vt. ; 
Abigail, born in 1757, married James 
Davis, of Haverhill, Mass. Ni< helas 
White was the father of fourteen chil- 
dren, and, living to a ripe old age, died 
October 7, 1 782. 

5. Noah White, son of Nicholas 
and Hannah (Ayer) White, was born 
Feb. 15, 172S; married Sarah Sweatt, 


and settled in Coos. Their children 
were : Nathaniel ; James, born May 
26, 1754; Abigail, born August 18, 
1756; Nicholas, born May 22, 1759; 
Sarah, born September 5, 1761 ; Anna, 
born October 30, ] 764 ; John Sweatt, 
born January 1, 1 70S ; Hannah, born 
December 30, 177a; William, born 
May 15, 1777. Noah White died 
March 20, 1 788. 

6. Nathaniel White, eldest son of 
Noah and Sarah (Sweatt) White, was 
born April 10, 1752. By his first wife, 
Betty, he had three children : Betty, 
born July 23, 1777; Un ice, born Au- 
gust 25, 1778; David, bom November 
28, 1779. After the decease of Betty 
White, he married Rebeckah Foord. 
Their children were : Polly, born June 
15, 1782 ; Abigail, born May 21, 
1785; Samuel. Nathaniel White set- 
tled in Lancaster about 1790, and 
died there April 28, TS09. During his 
life Nathaniel White won for himself 
a host of friends, who sincerely la- 
mented his loss. 

* " The poor and the afflicted lost 
in him one of their best friends, the 
town one of its most public-spirited 
inhabitants, and the school district one 
of its most able and generous sup- 
porters. Property with him was used 
to alleviate the wants of the poor and 
disseminate learning by the public 
schools. He was the best of hus- 
bands, the kindest and most provident 
of fathers, the tenderest and most 
faithful of friends. His loss seemed 
irreparable. ,! He was a Revolution- 
ary officer and his widow received a 

7. •j-Samiiel White, youngest child 
of Nathaniel and Rebeckah (Foord) 
White, was born in Bradford, Vt., 
September 14, 1787, removed to Lan- 
caster with his father in boyhood ; 
married Sarah Freeman, April 2. 1S10, 
and settled in Lancaster. Their chil- 
dren were : Nathaniel ; Selden F., 
born April 16, 181 2 ; Samuel L., 
born April 21, 1814; i Harriet L. 

(White) Chapin, widow of Hon. John 
P. Chapin, one of the former mayors of 

Chicago — born Sept. 2 7, 1815 ; JJames 
F., born Oct. 16, 1S17 ; Charles, born 
Sept. 30, 1S21, died in infancy; 
{William G., born April 15, 1823; 
Charles H., born March 10, 1:826; 
J John F., born March 12, 1S28. 
Samuel White died in Concord, June 4, 
1854. Sarah (Freeman) White died 


* Dartmouth Gazette, May 17. 1S09. 

t I am indebted to the researches of Samuel 
White for information regarding the genealogy of 
the White fondly. 

1 Living. 

in Concord, December 30, 

8. Nathaniel White, oldest child 
of Samuel and Sarah (Freeman) 
White, was born in Dan caster, Feb- 
ruary 7, 181 1. His childhood was 
passed under a tender mother's care, 
and to her strict religious training was 
Nathaniel White indebted for his noble 
character, which led him untainted 
amid the temptations of youth, and 
unspotted through a long career of 
usefulness. At home were those prin- 
ciples of integrity, honesty, temper- 
ance, philanthropy, and generosity in- 
culcated which led to a long life round- 
ed by Christian virtues, adorned by 
humanitarian graces, and free from 

At the age of fourteen years he 
went into the employ of a merchant 
of Lunenburg, Vt.. with whom he re- 
mained about one year, when he ac- 
cepted employment with Gen. John 
Wilson of Lancaster, who was just 
entering upon his duties of landlord 
of the Columbian Hotel in Concord. 
His parents the more readily consent- 
ed to his taking this step on account 
of the many noble qualities oi Mrs. 
Wilson. To her care he was entrust- 
ed by his solicitous mother. In the 
employ of Cen. Wilson, Nathaniel 
White commenced life in Concord, at 
the foot of the ladder. Fie arrived in 
Concord, August 25, 1826, with one 
shilling in his pocket. For five years. 
or until he came of age, he continued 
at the Columbian, rendering a strict 
account of his wages to his father, and 
saving the dimes and quarters which 
came as perquisites, until by his twenty- 
first birthday he had a fund o^ two 
hundred and fifty dollars. 

This may be' understood from the 
fact he commenced life with '-'^- 


5 1 

lin virtues, and with no vices. He 
was prudent, economical, temperate. 
He never used intoxicating drinks 
as 5 beverage, nor tobacco in any form ; 
nor did he gamble, or bet. with dice or 
cards; business success he preferred 
to | leasure, and to his work he carried 
enterprise, energy and will. 

In i S3 2 he made his first business 
venture, negotiating the first and' last 
business loan of his lite, and purchased 
a part interest in the stage route be- 
tween Concord and Hanover, occupy- 
ing the "box" himself for a fewyears. In 
one year he was free from debt ; soon 
after he bought into the stage route 
between Concord and Lowell ; in 1835. 
in company with Capt. William Walker, 
he initialed the express business, mak- 
ing three trips weekly to Boston, and 
personally attending to the delivery of 
packages, goods or money, and other 
business entrusted to him. He was 
ever punctual, he never forgot. In 
1842, upon the opening of the Con- 
cord railroad, he was one of the orig- 
inal partners of the express company 
which was then organized to deliver 
goods throughout New Hampshire and 
Canada. The company, under various 
names, has continued in successful 
operation to the present day, and to 
Nathaniel White's business capacity 
has it been greatly indebted for its 
remarkable financial success. 

In 1846 Mr. White purchased his 
farm, and has cultivated it since that 
date. It lies in the south-western sec- 
tion of the city, two miles from 
the State House, and embraces over 
four hundred acres of land. 

To his adopted home he ever 
felt and evinced a strong attachment ; 
and to him Concord owes much of her 
material prosperity and outward adorn- 
ment. Beautiful structures have been 
raised through his instrumentality which 
render the Capitol and State House 
l'aik such attractive features of the city. 

In 1852 he made his first step in 
political life, being chosen by the 
^ higs and Free-soilers to represent 


>cord m the state legislature. He 

was an Abolitionist from the first ; a 
member of the Anti- Slavery society 

from its inception. His hospitable 
home was the refuge of many a hunt- 
ed slave, a veritable station on the 
under- ground railroad, where welcome, 
care, food, and money were freely 
bestowed ; and the refugees were sent 
on their way rejoicing. The attic of 
his house and the hay-mows in his 
stable were the havens of rest for the 
persecuted black men. In ail works 
of charity and philanthropy .Mr. White 
was foremost or prominent. He was 
deeply interested in the establishment 
of the New Hampshire As)-lum for 
the Insane, and the State Reform 
School ; in the Orphan's Home at 
Franklin, which he liberally endowed ; 
and the "Home for the Aged in Con- 
cord, which was his special care. 

The Reform Club of Concord, al- 
though not an eleemosynary institution, 
received substantial benefits from his 
generosity; and to him, in a great 
measure, it owed its very existence, 
during the reaction which followed the 
first enthusiasm. 

Besides his extensive interest in the 
express company, his farm — which is 
one of the most highly cultivated in 
the state — his charming summer retreat 
on the borders of Lake Sunapee, and 
his real estate in Concord,, he was in- 
terested in real estate in Chicago, in 
hotel property in the mountain dis- 
tricts, in railroad corporations, in 
banks. in manufacturing establish- 
ments, and in shipping. He was a di- 
rector in the .Manchester and Law- 
rence, the Franconia and Profile 
House, and the Mount Washington 
railroads ; and in the National State 
Capital Bank ; a trustee of the Loan 
and Trust Savings Bank of Concord ; 
also, of the Reform School, Home for 
the Aged, and Orphans' Llome ; and of 
other private and public trusts. 

In 1875 Nathaniel White was the 
candidate for governor of the Prohibi- 
tion party ; and he had a vast number 
of friends in the Republican party, 
with which he was most closely iden- 
tified, who wished to secure his nom- 
ination for the highest honor within 
the gift of a state by the Republican 
party. In 1876 he was sent a? a dele- 



thrust upon 

gate to the Cincrnn iti Convention 
which nominated Mr. Hayes tor presi- 
dent, and cast every ballot for the 
gentleman of his choice. During the 
summer of 1S80, ho was placed by his 
part) at the head of the list of candi- 
dates for presidential electors 

With all these hone 
him, Nathaniel White was not a politi- 
cian, although firm in his own political 
convictions. The office sought the 
man, not the man the office. 

Nathaniel White was blessed in his 
marriage relations. His history is in- 
complete without a narration of the 
perfect union, complete confidence 
and mutual trust and assistance, be- 
tween him and his wife, during a mar- 
ried life of nearly half a century. 
November i, 1S36, he was married, by 
Rev. Robert Bartlett of Laconia, to 
Armenia S., daughter of John Aldrich 
of To^cawen, who survives him. Mrs. 
Armenia S. White is of good old 
Quaker stock, descending in the sixth 
generation from Moses Aldrich, a 
Quaker preacher, who emigrated to 
this country in the seventeenth cen- 
tury, and settled in Rhode Island ; and 
on the maternal side from Edward 
Dotey. a Pilgrim who landed in the 
Mayflower. She was bom November 
1, 1 Si 7. in Mendon, Mass., her pa- 
rents removing from Rhode Island at 
the time of their marriage. In 1S30 
she went with her parents to Bos- 
cawen, where she lived until her mar- 

Their children are : Col. John A. 
White ; Armenia E., wife of Horatio 
Hobbs ; Lizzie H. White ; Nathan- 
iel White, Jr. ; Benjamin C. White, 
who survive. They lost two children, 
Annie Frances arid Seldon F. ; and 
adopted one — Hattie S., wife of Dr. 
D. P. Dearborn, of Brattleborough, 

Mrs. White has been his companion 
and abettor in every good work. 

In early life Mr. White joined the 
Independent Order of Odd Fellows, 
but his interest was soon gone. For 
several years he continued his con- 
nection with the society, by paying his 
dues, without actual attendance, until 

at last lie dropped from their ranks, 
He belonged to no other secret society. 
Anti-slavery societies, temperance so- 
cieties, charitable and benevolent 
societies, woman suffrage and equal 
rights societies, and the Universalist 
society — in. all of these, both husband 
and wife were deeply and equally in- 
terested. Hand in hand the)- have 
been in every good work, save where 
the charities of one were unknown to 
the other. During the first four years 
of their married life, on account of 
Mr. White's occupation, they boarded ; 
for eight years they lived on Warren 
street; since 1848, until the death of 
Mr. White, in their residence on School 
street. Here they have meted out 
generous and refined hospitality to the 
humble slave, the unfortunate, and to 
the most illustrious guests who have 
honored Concord by their visits. 

Nathaniel White died Saturday, 
October 2, 1880, having nearly com- 
pleted the allotted span of three 
score years and ten. He was stricken 
down suddenly- — although, with his 
usual business foresight, he seems to 
have been prepared for the change. 
The family, in their bereavement had 
the sympathy of the community and 
state. The sense of a great loss per- 
vaded the city. The funeral was held 
in the church which owes so much to 
his fostering care, and was the occa- 
sion when a great multitude bore wit- 
ness to the depth of their sorrow. 
His remain's lie in the lot in Blossom 
Hill cemetery which his filial love 
prepared as the resting-place for his 

What were the traits that so endear- 
ed Nathaniel White to all who knew 
him, or could appreciate him? He 
was thoroughly good ; he had a great 
heart. Of active sympathies, ct warm 
feelings, he was ever ready to listen to 
the call of suffering, and answer it. 
His heart and purse were always open 
for worthy objects. His assistance 
was freely given for the furtherance of 
good enterprises. He was an ardent 
and persevering worker for reform. 
j He was a consistent temperance ad- 
I vocate. He was a modest man withal, 



not fluent as a speaker, but listened to 
as an oracle. Deeds, not words, made 
up his life. He was blessed with goad 
j idgment and common sense. He j 
was practical and successful. To him ■ 
a man was a brother ; a woman, a sis- | 
ter. He loved his fellow men. 

Mr. White embodied and exempli- | 
fied in his life those qualities of mind j 
and heart which distinguish what we 
love to call our self-made men. He 
was esssentially progressive, coura- 
geous, and a moving force among his | 
associates. Life was to him full of j 
opportunities which he had the nerve 
to seize and the capacity to improve ; I 
and then force of character, guided j 
by high moral instinct and sterling j 

honesty, made him a power in the bus- 
iness and social community, and won 
lor him his high position. And it was 
no covetous hand that gathered up 
this harvest of wealth and influence 
and strength of resource. He gath- 
ered it and dispersed it with equal 
munificence. It went to help the 
poor, to encourage enterprise, to pro- 
mote all good works, and to make the 
community better and happier. He 
made his impress on the world about 
him, not by wiiat he gained from it, 
but by what he gave to it ; and his 
works live after him, and speak con- 
tinual!)- of a life that was a rich bless- 
ing, and is still a treasure to the com- 
munity to which it peculiarly belongs. 



The mountain side is broad and steep. 
The mountain top is gray and hoary; 

"Pis toilsome up the crags to creep, 
But oh ! how grand the hurst of glory 

Which breaks upon the 'raptured sight 

When once attained its utmost height! 

On every side are fragments strewn 
Of massive, pre-historic boulders. 
Vast buttresses of ragged stone: 
Not that which crumbles, rots and 
But that which stands in strength sub- 
Defying storm, and sun and time. 

Adown tie - * slopes, in. somber green 
The old. primeval forest reaches, 

Tall hemlocks, bosky spruce between, 
Then groves of maple, birch and 

And at its base, in fruitful pride, 

The fertile fields stretch far and wide. 

Bright, gem-like lakes flash far and near. 

Like diamond- in an emerald setting, 
And forest brooks creep, cool and clear. 

Through weedy glades, their ripples 
The tangled wild flowers ar their edge. 
Or murmuring low through marshy sedge m 

O scene of beauty, vast and fair! 

My heart goes out to thee in gladness. 
And loses, in thy mountain air, 

Each thought of sorrow, care and sadnes 
The Switzer's laud, the world at large. 
Can ne'er o'ennateh our own K'earsarge ! 

Springfield, X. II., Sept. 20, 1830. 





The years go by, and out of the «hroud 
Tiie statue stttii ';• naked in noon; 

Out of the tint and out of a cloud 
Of a long-forgotten June. 


We had slept the sleep of the inno- 
cent, for the night following thai hot 
summer day had been cool and 
delightful, and we arose, like Sancho 
Panza, invoking blessings on the man 
who first invented sleep. It was to be 
a pleasant day ; the Squire said so, 
and was he not as weather wise as 
" Old Prob?" "There was a copious 
fall of dew," he said, and the spiders 
had woven their webs in gray patches 
all over the pastures and waysides, and 
the nightcaps which the mountains had 
put on after sunset were being drawn 
up and hung away somewhere in the 
cloud-closets of the skies. To be 
sure, there was a line of gray fog 
down there, following the course of the 
valley stream, all the way from the 
wilds of "Kah-wan-en-te" to the 
Connecticut ; but a breezy breath and 
a few sun glances would scatter that 
formless cloud-fustian into fog-land. 

Thus encouraged and persuaded, we 
rubbed the sleep from our eyelids and 
followed the Squire to the breakfast 
room, where a cup of coffee and the 
rest of the party already awaited us. 

It is many years since Frank took it 
into his agricultural head to make a 
home of this highland terrace. What 
high aspirations impelled him hither 
we never asked ; but come with me 
on some glorious summer evening, just 
as the sun is touching the hills beyond 
Lunenburg ; the close of some day, 
"sacred to mountains;" cloudless, 
when " they rear their sunny capes 
like heavenly alps," or golden capitals 
of the skies, when 

"Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
Is bathed in floods of living fire;" 

when the glory of that "upper country," 
of which we were taught in childhood, 

comes down among the hills ; or shall 
it be in the morning, just as the gates 
of day are swinging back upon golden 
hinges, and those phantasms of moun- 
tains are being sculptured into rugged 
domes and gilded crests by magical 
touches from an unseen hand, until 
gray rock, towering peak, and shadowy 
ravine are all aglow with sunlit morn- 
ing glory. Come with me, I say, out 
to the little summer-house, or look-out 
in the edge of the old pasture, and 
then, knowing the man, you will not 
ask why here he set up his household 
gods ; nor will you need Wren's in- 
junction from lip of life, or letters of 
stone, to "look around." 

It was long afterward that a gentle- 
man of some leisure, an ardent lover 
of nature, and a man 01 rare mental 
attainments, became charmed with the 
surroundings and the outlook from 
this spot, and having passed a summer 
amid its joys returned bringing with 
him other and congenial spirits "in 
like manner tempted as he was," so 
that the old farm-house grew into a 
sort of a summer hostelry ; and it 
came to pass that a large and cheerful 
three-story mansion, full of summer 
homes, grew up by the side of the 
ancient structure, and the hill-top, 
crowned and christened, thus became 
"Mountain View." 

But here comes " Van " with the 
fiery steeds before the "beach wagon," 
and. waiting for us with ail the patience 
of mountain mustangs and driver. 
You wonder why lie calls it the beach 
wagon ? So did we, when there is no 
shadow of a strand or murmur of a 
wave within a good fifty miles of us ; 
so we concluded the vehicle was an 
importation, really built and character- 
ized at some sea-side matt, but strayed 
or trundled away, as had we, to the 

But then, what was it that suggested 



to our thoughts squirrels and beech- I 
nuts, and carried us back through the , 
pathway of years to the old beechwood 
when our hearts were as full of exuber- | 
anee as a pic-nic lunch basket ol' good I 
things, or as were our hats and pockets ! 
of the three-cornered brown nuts? 
We hnve it ; bench wagon, beechwood, I 
beechnuts and squirrels. 

While we were bestowing ourselves, 
Van, with flourish of whip, and the 
girls with flurry of handkerchiefs had 
waved farewell to the stay-at-homes, 
and given us an impulsive send-off 
southward; for we were booked and 
headed for the Pemigewasset valley, 
and we steer for those sentinel cliffs 
which mark where the head waters 

Chills are abroad at this early hour, 
and we begin to feel the need of "old 
Grimes's coat all buttoned down be- 
fore ;" but the morning is a delight. 
The sky and the mountains arc gener- 
ally clothed in their Sunday best, and 
old Lafayette will doff that monkish 
cowl of his as the sun goes higher. I 
wonder if the old French general was 
ever aware of the compliment, and the 
world-old monument created up here 
to his memory ; what ages of anticipa- 
tion before the hero was prepared for 
the memorial ! and who shall say it 
was not a part of the great plan, the 
man and his monument, from the foun- 
dation of the world. 

Up and down we go, and the ups 
seem far more and longer than the 
downs. Bethlehem lays in our course 
high up on the terraced slope of Mt 
Agassiz, but it is no tarrying place for us, 
only to notice as we pass its spacious ho- 
tels, cozy cottages, sunny abodes, and de- 
lightful mountain views. The driver's 
whip was socketed, and the long mile 
of street was slowly unwound, for, like 
us, the mustangs were in musing mood. 
We had some valued friends who lived 
hereabout " lang syne,'' and we gazed 
and memorated as we passed the 
Turner home that was, but saw not 
the familiar faces of the long ago. 

While the picture was unrolling like 
a scroll, we clomb the hill another 
stair, and from the summit of the 

divide between the wild Ammonoosuc 
and the Franconia valley, we did just 
as did the wife of the sodomite shep- 
herd, looked back ; that was the 
eventful moment in the life of the 
shepherdess, this was one in ours. We 
have a picture to hang in memory's 
hall, but not to 'describe, framed by the 
horizon of hills, dove-tailed with the 
sky in alternate green and blue. What 
a great disturber of the peace that 
must have been to drive these great 
cones and ridges of granite up from 
below, and heave them into billows of 
mountains and hills, away back so long 
ago that even geologists lose sight of 
that "4O04" landmark ; then they were 
billows of gray granite, now they are 
surges of green, ami golden, and 
purple, for nature in this gala day of 
sunshine is showing off her most at- 
tractive wardrobe, as parti-colored as 
the coat of Joseph, and dotted here 
and there with spangles of silver, amid 
the lights and shades of the season '. 
Oh the delights in the birds-eye view 
from these upper pastures, and how 
we strive to look beyond, into those 
sky parlors, for 
heavenly breeze 


by tiie 

outward blowing, 
that the doors are wide open swung ! 

But down we go again, for we have 
another valley to cross before we scale 
the outworks of Lafayette, and so we 
leave the hills ot Bethlehem. There. 
has not that an oriental sound ; and if 
you had been there would you not 
have remembered the story that was 
told us in boyhood, of the man and 
his wife who came to an inn in the 
land of Judea, and the landlord said, 
"All full sir," and so they found lodg- 
ings in the stable, arid of the event 
that transpired before the stars had 
gone in the morning? and would you 
not hnve looked around, as we did, for 
tire riocks and tire shepherds ? We saw 
the sheep but they were shepherdless : 
the glory was all about us, and we felt 
like singing "peace and good- will 
toward men," but we were surrounded 
by the delights of mid-summer, and it 
was no time for Christmas Carols. 

A few rattling dashes down a little 
valley, where a rollicking school-boy 



of a brook led the way, and then we j 
began to climb that long Jacob's ladder i 
of a hill, whose foot rests in the val- j 

ley and whose top reaches toward ! 
heaven, and rested, we knew, against j 
that gateway of the notch, tip among 
the shadows above, between Lafayette 

and Gannon mounts. That hour's 
semi-mountain climb is a memory. 
How philosophically the mustangs 
assu med the h itch-my-hat chet-and - u p- 
I-go labor required of them ; they j 
bore the not-to-be-left-behind half of 
our load, the lunch baskets and the 
ladies, while we, the other half, pe- 
destrianated among the berry bushes, j 
the fern banks, and the wild, wayside 
nooks and rambles; and hush! no, 
you can but listen to the bird choir, 
the thrush and the warbler, and the 
sparrow, and the vireo ; and then the 
music of the pines, the sighing, as 
sung by the poets, a sort of a mourn- 
ful lingering of spirits of winds, long 
since died away, and then up from 
below, yes, and down from above, 
comes that jolliest, liveliest laugh of a 
brook, and looking down, there through | 
the foliage you can see it romping, and j 
leaping, and sparkling among the j 
rocks and eddies ; it is a runaway j 
from that sunless home of the Old 
Man of the Mountain, and it is hila- 
rious with freedom. 

It is no closed gateway, and needs 
no open sesame to gain admis- 
sion to this " back parlor of the gods." 
We are on the shoulder of the moun- 
tain, and a few ins and outs among 
the shadows of the birches, and the 
aspens, and the maples, over a road as 
smooth and as faultless as the Ap- 
pian Way. We were never there, and 
we are dropping into a mystic world 
not made with hands. The sharp 
crack of Van's whip never before 
woke such answers as when we rattled 
down among the pine shadows to the 
shore of Echo Lake — or was it the 
fall of a decayed branch, or a suddenly 
loosened fragment of rock from up 
above where the live thunders have 
their nests, that came rustling back in 
palpitating mists of sound? This 
shadow-haunted gem, across whose 

waters, waveless as a marble floor, 
voices answer to voice from cliff and 

chasm, and go talking all around the 
mountain walls, is a liquid mirror. 
And there are echoes of sight too. as 
well as of sound, for gazing into its 
breathless depths you may trace all its 
wild surroundings of crag and peak, 
of lightning scar and earthquake 
seam ; diminutive evergreens, clinging 
like patches of moss to rocky crevices ; 
ferny fringes of trees growing from the 
hanging balconies of the cliff, ; scal- 
loped outlines of forest primeval, from 
water's edge to waving summit. It 
seems a sacrilegious innovation, intrud- 
ing upon these sacred solitudes with 
the whir and whittle of the steam car, 
but there it creeps warily along the 
far shore, and Eagle Cliff, gray with the 
grime of centuries, frowns down upon 
the invasion from the top of the sky. 

This pass, or notch as it is called, is 
the head of a narrow valley, between 
two lofty mountains — Lafayette, here 
as unscalable as the Palisades, except 
tor vines, and mosses, and fleecy 
clouds, and Cannon Mountain, as bald 
as the poll of a much-married Mor- 
mon, and whose bare^, sun-burned sum- 
mit convinces the beholder it was 
never calculated for potato-patch or 
pasture-land — the forest trees faltered 
a long way below the sky-line. Do 
not imagine tins a lonely, lifeless vale. 
Its woods and winding ways are as full 
of human life as the avenues of an ant- 
hill are of insects, and the Profile House 
yields to these hundreds of wonder- 
seekers all the accommodations and 
luxuries of modern civilized life ; but 
it is not charms and attractions we 
seek. " Look around ! " High up on 
an overhanging cliff, with face of un- 
utterable calmness looks forth that won- 
der of the world — the American 
Sphinx — the Old Man of the Moun- 
tain, sculptured by the Almighty long 
before his image in man had walked 
the earth, his face turned to the rising 
sun, always watching for the coming ot 
the new day, and counting- the cen- 
turies as they pass. Why does one 
feel like standing with uncovered head 
in the presence of this venerable crea 


3 / 

an of an unknown age? For how 
[•mv thousands oi the earth's years 
ave the thunders rattled, and the 
| mds woven their fillets around Ins 
ead? How many cycles of sunshine 
nd shadow have marked the "eternal 
v >_;:'ess of the spheres" since the 
^mighty Sculptor fashioned its stony 
utline? For whose adoration or ad- 

-Wi'rr.r.^1 ~> Oui'S, U'C 



miration was 1 

know, now, but for whose then? And, j 
after all, how can we wonder at the j 
simple worship of those whom we arc 
pleased to term idolaters, when we find 
ourselves almost worshipping that out- 
lined face among the clouds? What 
wonderful records might be known 
from the unfoldings of those stony 
lips, unwritten from the time the 
•■ earth was rocked to its first slum- 
ber?" I wonder if this was not once 
a grand temple of worship, a moun- 
tain monastery, whose covering was the | 
" cloudy canopy or starry decked 
heaven," and that here the of 
men gathered themselves together as 
the autumn fires were kindled upon the 
summits and slopes of the hills and moun- 
tain wails, at the shrine of the Old Man of 
the Mountain, and that their shadows 
still haunt the valley and its lakes and 
streams and holy places, and that the 
ashes of myriads and myriads now lie 
under our feet and mingle with the 
soil we tread ! And so we go won- 
dering down the valley. 

Oil child of that white-crested mountain whose 

Gush forth in the shade of the elifl-eagles' wings, 
i'l.'.n whose slopes to the lowlands the wild 

watei - shine, 
Leaping gray walls of rock, dashing through the 

dwarf pine. 


It was no wearisome pleasure, that 
drive down that marvelous Pemigewas- 
set pass. We were trying to imagine 
what aboriginal idea could be wrapped up 
in that musical but almost untranslatable 
name. Thoreau has not told it. Stan- 
King knew it not. Prime fails to fur- 
nish it. We heard it, however, as we 
mused by the brook-side, listening to 
" Pa-im-wa-wa " — ' : the passing sound" 
— and we knew that these wild echoes 
of winds end waters and inanimate 
things along the dark corridors and up 

among the secret passages, with faint 
whispers told it to the ear of the lis- 
tening native.* 

This is a roadway as perfect and 
smooth as ever the imagination and 
skill of Macadam could mould 
from hillside and wayside, and then so 
full of delights and surprises, the 
sweeping turns bringing to view unex- 
pected crags, and long horizon lines of 
lofty peaks ever wearing of the 
green, following the course of a 
mountain stream as full of frolic and 
eccentricities as a country school-boy ; 
darting here, lurking there, in among 
the shadows, out among the sunbeams, 
leaping over ledges, flashing from 
sunny rapids, beckoning from before 
us, shouting from behind us ; foam- 
ing and fleecy here, smooth and re- 
flecting as a mirror there, now stealing 
forth from cleft rocks, and now hiding 
in some trout-bowl of a pool as won- 
derful as Bethesda, hollowed from 
the solid rock by the swirling waters 
and the whirling pebbles. '"'.There are 
books in the running brooks." 

Down we go, zig-zaging through 
those magnificent forest halls, sweep- 
ing away on either hand full of prime- 
val solitude, far up toward the 
grav summits of those k " mountains of 

The sun had already turned the 
shadows eastward when we left the 
highway o( the hills iov the by-way of 
the waters. Did you ever see the 
" Flume," as it is termed by those 
mountaineers? Well, there it is up 
the mountain yonder. Somewhere 
away up from out those rocky cham- 
bers, whence the thunders are hurl- 
ed in summer days, and where ice 
works are builded in winter nights, 
escaped ages agone a wild witch of a 
stream, and it has worked wonders 
since, for it has worked for itself a way 
into the solid rock of the world deeper 
than the moss-bound well into which 
you wonderously gazed in childhood 

* The 
the huli 


r has n«'\ it e. 

ii :>.!■> translation of 
assi t', but rhinks it 

of til 

. .1 coined tro 

a the tw o v. uids <•>. 
idea; — Paimwawa, a 


uv e< 

iioing sound, 

and Mudway»in, the 



to see where the iron bound bucket I 
went to iii search of water. 

We may follow this noisy offspring 
of the clouds upward in its bed. for at 
this season, except when swollen by 
rains, there is pass for two. yourself 
and the brook. So upward we climb, 
if we may call it climbing, for it is 
walking up the smooth surface of 
granite, made so by the sliding and 
gliding of one of the jolliest, 
liveliest little rivulets you ever met ; 
but there is a rib of a root here, a 
water-cut crevice there, and you find 
it less difficult than climbing jagged 
stairs. Soon we meet broken frag- 
ments of rock, and the waters grow 
noisy and more musical, and there 
are mossy edges, and fern}' banks; 
and there are miniature pools and 
rippling eddies; and then we take 
another climb flume-ward, and lo ! the 
fissure in all its remarkable aspects is 
before and above us ! We gaze 
around for a moment at the wonders 
which time and the waters have 
wrought, and then leave the gray 
granite pavement for narrow board 
bridges, well trodden by-paths, and 
jagged, rocky stair- ways; and now 
the pass is narrowed to the width of 
the spruce-barred way through which 
you turned the cows in the mornings 
of the long ago to their highland pas- 
tures. And there is no longer pass by the 
side of the stream as below, so it is under 
your feet, if perchance you cling to 
the rude board of a path, slippery 
with spatters and mist, thrown across 
from mossy niche to rocky knob. 

It is a very unsocial foot-path, this. 
You may catch the utterances of your 
companion as they are flirted back to 
you, but they are as unintelligi- 
ble as the cawings of a crow or the 
chirpings of a cricket, only the voice 
of this untutored mountain-born stream, 
which comes shouting down the chasm 
with a boyhood freshness, impresses 
the listener's ear, and that in wild har- 
monies. Midway heavenward a huge 
egg of a boulder hangs suspended, 
poised as you would hold a pebble 
between finger and thumb. Whence 
it came, what force started it on its 

down mountain journey, is an unguess 
able mystery. We can only look and 
point upward toward the gray, ragged 
summit, scarred and scratched by 
young earthquakes and world-old thun- 
ders. Tut why it stopped steadfastly 
there is just discernable, the rolling 
rock was just a shaving too thick or 
the gullied gulf a trifle too narrow. So 
there it must hang, like a huge acorn, 
until next quaking day, a geological 
curiosity, and one of the ''valley won- 

Across the chasm above the rock 
some hero of a hurricane, one long ago 
day, hurled a giant cedar, and time 
lias covered both with gray lichens 
and green moss as long as the beard 
of a druid, Away through the tracery 
of trees, misty and wavy, is the " blue 
beyond." but in the gorge it is as sun- 
less as creation's first unperfected 
days. Fresh wonders fountain-ward 
beckon to us from above, but waning 
hours say nay. So fishing a pebbly 
souvenir or two from among the eddies, 
and a few mosses and feathery ferns 
from the crevices of the pictured rocks, 
wherewithal to grace the botanical 
basket of Calorine, we leave boulder 
and shadowy Flume for wonders wild 
yet to come. 

In the heart of this " Valley of pass- 
ing sounds," in one of its most ro- 
mantic nooks, is a resting and refresh- 
ment resort, with outlook upon the 
eastern ridge rising grim and grand 
high up to a craggy crown. From 
wooded base to gray wrinkled crest, 
the eye climbs by shadowy lines up to 
where long ago the prophet smote 
the rock, and marked out the course 
of the rod- invoked rivulet. As we 
watched the changing lines, the frowns 
and the smiles away skyward, little 
gray clouds crept along the mountain 
top and out of the caverns and hol- 
lows, and as we watched them gather 
in fleecy riocks, we saw what all that 
hurry-scurrying was for. They were 
getting up an entertainment for us 
away up there in the sky parlors, a 
show of sunshine and showeretts, fust 
a cloud, then a sunbeam, and then 
a shower, and you should have scan 



all the little juvenile clouds scudding 
up the rivulet paths to add to the sup- 
port, and I dare say in one hour 
thereafter some of those same cloud- 
letts came shouting down the rocks 
into the valley again at our very feet; 
up in the fog and down by the brook. 
And then, too., athwart the curtain, came, 
as we gazed, the vision of a rainbow, 
just a fragment, not enough to bend 
but sufficient to remind one of the 
seal of the covenant, a touch of pur- 
ine, a tinge of golden, a shading of 
red, and a tinting of blue, flung out 
like a banner from the battlements of 
the sky. 

What was done with that cloud and 
rainbow picture, we never knew—roiled 
up, I suppose, for some future reher- 
salj or hung away in those upper lofts 
for next summer's surprisals, for while 
the scene was changing, we, to gratify 
curiosity and get a peep behind the 
scenes, entered an unclosed by-way of 
a door opening towards the mountain. 
It was the " Pool " path, and the my- 
riad oi enchantments strung along its 
shadowy windings were like the pearls 
of a necklace. 

Unexpected episodes are often quite 
as pleasing as expected plots, certain 
these wayside joys heightened the 
glories and marvels of the final suc- 
cess. There were huge boulders, 
once a portion of the cloud-piercing 
crag, or dropped from some southern 
bound iceberg in a primeval age. 
Nay, but see the flaw yonder, whence 
they were flung by some Titan of a 
day, before yesterdays were countless. 
Time has upholstered them deep with 
moss and crowned them with ferny 
favors rare and beautiful. Do you re- 
member, when a boy, of climbing just 
such hallowed rocks, and dreaming 
away hours of God's Sundays upon 
just such beds of moss among forests 
of ferns? Then you dreamed of days 
to come ; anticipations were many, 
realizations so few. 

All along this Pool-ward ramble are 
nooks, and corners, and zigzags — pic- 
tures for memory. Sighing pines, 
shaking aspens, flickering shadows, 
ancestral trunks loner since cumberers 

of the ground, broken columns, but 
time, the obliterator, has kindly shroud- 
ed them with moss, and lichens, and 
clinging vines. And this is the 
Pool! We knew it was near for 
we heard the murmuring echoes of its 
discontented waters as we sat among 
the weird roots of that ancient pine 
upon the bankside. Ah ! what a nook 
c<[ the world ! but the sound is no 
longer a murmur, for the stream comes 
rushing and tumbling in from some 
mysterious source among the rocks, 
waltzes around the gray granite cham- 
ber, and then goes laughing and rol- 
licking out, restless and unruly on its 

You look down as you cling to some 
friendly sapling or over-hanging rock, 
one hundred and fifty feet into its 
sparkling, pebble-lined depths, and 
across two hundred feet to the broken 
and seamed walls of God's masonry 
beyond. You sit down and scale with 
your eye the unscalable cliff. It is 
jagged and broken as the " Walls of 
Jerico after the battle ot the rams- 
homs," but these are the scars of 
quakes and lightnings.. Lifeless? 
No ; every crevice is a vase, a nest- 
ling place for some hright-hued flower 
or miniature plant, some fairy fern or 
tiny " child of Eden." smiling down at 
you from inaccessible crags and rug- 
ged niches, and away up tiie hoary 
battlements, where the eagles have 
their nests, are patches of greenery 
where dwarfs of pines and pigmies of 
spruce have climbed by jagged path- 

Xor were these earth-born castles hare, 
Nor lacked they many a banner i\\\v, 
For from their shivered brows displayed, 
Far o'er tin- unfathomable glade, 
All twinkling with the dew 'drops-sheen, 
The briar-rose fell in -tie. our,-- green, 
And creeping shrubs of myriad dye- 
Waved in the west wind summer sighs. " 

By rustic staircase we descend to 
the bottom of the gorge, among the 
mists and wonders, below where the 
shouting, mad waters come leaping 
through the cleft rocks. There are 
rifts and holes around the sides, and 
you wonder if they aie not the outer 
doors to some inner temple of the 



borne mamoth cav< 



explored and perhap: 
You look upward, tracing the path of 
your descent, and you think of the 
patriarch's dream in the wilderness, 

angels and all. The basin is tumbled 
thick with fragments of those ancient 
monuments, older than the records of 
man, hurled earthward when the 
" rocks were rent." Those dwarf 
evergreens, looking timidly down, are 
descendants of that cone -bearing dy- 
nasty who sang " the song of the pine," 
echoed by the primeval winds long ere 
they had thrilled to the morning bird- 
song or vibrated to the notes of the 
katydid ; ere Adam was called to the 
oversight of the Oriental garden, or 
Eve had hid from the presence of her 
Lord among the grape-vines and fig 
leaves ; older than man, or beast, or 
bird, or even the soil that time has 
since accumulated for its newer crea- 
tions, down among the. coal measures 
are the deep-buried graves of their prim- 
eval kindred. 

It was that garrulous old " charon," 
whose flat-boat and paddles are at 
your pleasure for a dime, who dis- 
turbed our contemplations, and he 
would row us around this whirl of 
waters. We wished him paddling 
a passage down the Pemigewasset, and 
reascending our Jacob's ladder sought 
the pathway tending outward. 

The scene-shifter had been working 
wonders while we were within. The 
trailing clouds were hung in fringes 
away down the mountain sides, and 
there was a flutter up aloft that was 
portentious. The brow of the Old Man 
of the Mountain looked grim and 
disturbed as we passed. It was plain 

j that something betokening a change 
: was transpiring in those upper realms. 
How they shook out the dark somber 
robes of the hills as we watched, and 
hung them down over Lafayette and 
I Eagle Cliff til! they trailed their edges 
m the waters of Echo Lake, and 
spread them over the woods till their 
shadows grew dark with shadow. The 
mountains were "taking the veil/' and 
we were witnessing the ceremony as 
we skirted along the edge of the 
cloud. By and by came a patter upon 
the roof of our storm-proof carriage. 

Did you never lie down up in the 
old garret at home listening to the pat- 
ter of the rain upon the shingles? 
Then you know of what we were think- 
ing as we drove up that Franconia val- 
ley, watching the bewildered clouds, 
and the storm-clad peaks and the nn- 
illumined heavens, rolling and un- 
rolling like a scroll. 

" Where through mist-; were glimpses given 
01" the mountain's side**, 
,..,, Rock and fores: piled to [leaven, 
Torn and ploughed by slides," 

Suddenly, as we looked, there was a 
rift in the sky of the west, a tint upon 
the cloud-canopied realms of the 
east. The tint became a blush. The 
blush deepened to a glow until as 
we reached the summit at the 
west of Mount Aggasiz the whole 
eastern world was hung with heaven- 
wrought curtains of crimson, and silver, 
and gold. It was as glorious a sunset as 
ever hallowed mountain land. It was the 
grand closing scene of the day, and 
we fancied we were just upon the 
swing of the golden gate, and the 
glories of the within were reflected for 
a brief moment bevond the walls. 


6 1 




>i„ ! 

Any one acquainted with its loca- 
tion and history, can truthfully affirm 
that this village is one of the pleasant- 
est and most enterprising within the 
limits of "Old Cheshire." M the 
Windsor and Forest Tine Railroad is 
ever built, or, in fact, if any railroad 
ever passes through the town, we pre- 
dict that Mario w will become a centre 
of considerable importance. 

On a beautiful September morning 
we started, by way of the delightfully 
rural old turnpike road from Lempster 
to this plaee. to glean the brief histori- 
cal facts given below. The expanded 
hillsides had already begun to glow 
with the varied tints of autumn, mor 
vivid and beautiful and delic„,. 
shaded than any that painter's palette 
ever bore, or poet's pen described ! 
For miles along our route, grand old 
trees form almost an arch overhead, 
and as the bright-colored leaves rus- 
tled in the breeze we thought of the 
spring days when we watched their 
gradual unfolding in tufts of tender 
green. The spring birds sang sweetly 
there upon the budding boughs, their 
dark plumage contrasting with the 
scarlet flowers of the maple, the grace- 
ful tassels of the elm, and the pink 
velvet leaflets of the oak. 

Now a solitary redwing chirps from 
yonder stubble 1 Xow the benignant 
ministry of the leaves, in a wealth of 
color, closes ! Our poets have not 
yet done justice to the autumnal foli- 
age. The English have no such bril- 
liancy and beauty, and their allusions 
are generally of a sombre hue ; still, 
Tennyson finely says : 

" The tender blossoni flutters flown, 
Cnlovdd that beecij v ii: gatTter brown, 
Thin maple bum itself invav, 
When Autumn 1 lyeth here'and there 
A fiery tinge;' on the leaves." 

So charmed were we with the glori- 
ous scenery, and the welcome coolness 

| of the shaded highway, that ere we 

' were aware the white spires of Mar- 
: low Plain, once called Sodom by angry 
"Hill folks," in "ye olden time," 
came full into view. Soon we were 
J chatting with kind friends, and were 
! looking over the- time-worn records in 
j the clerk's office, within an horn - . 

The original charter, signed " Ben. 
j Wentworth," and bearing date Octo- 
ber 7th, 1 76 1, was kindly loaned us 
i by Mr. E. G. Huntley. By it we no- 
| tice that the town grant was divided 
! into seventy equal shares, containing 
j by admeasurement twenty-three thou- 
! sand and forty acres, six miles square. 
I " As soon as there shall be fifty fami- 
lies resident," reads the charter. " and 
settled thereon, said town shall 
have the liberty of holding two 
fairs annually." The grantees are 
sixty-nine in number, and William 
Noyes's name heads the list. 

The New Hampshire Gazetteer and 
Clme's Atlas give the names of the 
first settlers as Joseph Tubbs, Samuel 
and John Gustin, N. Royce, N. Miller, 
an i Nathan Huntley, and the same 
authority states that the first town- 
meeting was held in March, 17 76, but 
we learn that the records of a town- 
meeting, held Tuesday, March 2nd, 
1766, are now in existence, and that 
the town has the notices 01 such 
meetings from that time forward. The 
authentic copy reads as follows : 

"The Inhabitants of this town met 
according to the warning in the Char- 
ter, and being legally warned to meet 
at the dwelling-house of Sam'l Gustin, 
Joseph Tubbs was chosen Moderator 
for said Meeting, and Sim'l Gustin 
Clerk for said town ; and the meeting 
was adjourned to the third Tuesday of 
May next at the Dwelling- House of 
Joseph Tubbs of Marlow at one of the 
clock in the afternoon on said day. 



" May ye 16th, 1766, then met ac- 
cording to adjournment and chose 
Joseph Tubbs the first Selectman ; 
Sam'I Gustin the- second Selectman, 
and Martin Lord die third Selectman. 
Sam'i. Gustin-, Clerk." 

These were probably the first select- 
men chosen. In 1767 Nathan Hunt- 
ley, Sam'I Gustin, and Nehemiah 
Royce were chosen selectmen. 

In i 773 is the first copy of a war- 
rant for a town-meeting. It was di- 
rected to the constable. 

In 1778 the first minister was set- 
tled, Rev. Caleb Blood (Congrega- 
tionlist). He was dismissed the next 
year, and Rev. Eleazer Beckwith (Bap- 
tist) succeeded, and preached till his 
death, in 1809. 

The Proprietors' committee in t 767, 
were Nathan Huntley and Sam'I Gus- 
tin. Jn 1783 John Lewis was chosen 
collector of the Rumbe tax, and in the 
same year it was voted to exempt tire 
widows from taxation for twelve 

It is evident that but few of the 
charter members remained in town 
for a long period, if they did they 
left no descendants. Nathan Hunt- 
ley's name does not appear on that 

document, yet he was one of the first 

The earliest buildings were put up 
near Baker's Corner, by John Gustin. 
Nathan Huntley settled near Marlow 
Hill, and Joseph Tubbs in the south 
part of the town. The first meeting- 
house was built in 1798.011 Marlow 
Hill. It had big, square, two-story 
galleries all around, and contained the 
"box pews." It was taken down in 
1845, and removed to the south (now 
the main) village, as a sort of a union 
church ; it is now called the Christian 
Church. There is no preaching in it 
at present, and the basement is used 
as the Town Hall. Originally, this 
edifice stood near Baker's Corner ; it 
was not clapboarded or plastered, and 
was ornamented ( ?) with the primitive 
wooden benches. The Methodist 
Church, also, originally stood on old 
Marlow Hill. 


ore its erection, 

there were quite a number of Univer- | 

; sausts in town, and, not agreeing in 

■ regard to a minister, a committee was 
j chosen — one from the Baptists, one 
i from the Congregationalists, and one 
I from the Universalists — to procure a 
I pastor ; and in order to have one that 
' would unite them, they employed the 
j Rev. Peter Jacobs, a Methodist, and 
I this was the first introduction of Meth- 
I oclism in Marlow, which is at this time 
j the popular church of the place. 

Oral tradition says that a Mr. Mar- 
j shall was the first man to preach a 
! Methodist sermon in town, but noth- 
! ing is remembered of him except the 
! fact that he preached two or three 
j times. 

Mr. Jacobs was succeeded by Rev. 
i Paul Dustin, a local preacher of the 
! M. E. Church, and he organized 
! a Methodist Society. Among its 
first members were Francis Brown, 
Amos Gale, Jr., and wife, Cyrus Corn- 
stock and wife, Mrs. Griffin, and Sam- 
uel Pace. Subsequently Mr. Dustin 
preached for the Congregationalists at 
Alstead, where he died, February 10, 
1S11, at the early age of thirty-six, 
and was buried in the cemetery at 
Alstead Centre. 

Rev. Dexter Bates was probably his 
successor, as he was known to be the 
pastor in 1812-13. He is spoken of 
as " a strong man, full of zeal and 

In 1815 Marlow was embraced in 
Grantham Circuit, New England Con- 
ference, Vermont district, with. Eleazer 
Wells, presiding elder, and Warner 
Bannister preacher — the latter did not 
preach in Marlow oftener than once 
in four weeks. The entire circuit, 
comprising probably from six to ten 
towns, reported a membership of two 
hundred and fifty-five whites and one 

In 18 15 Marlow was included in 
Unity Circuit, with Caleb Dustin and 
James Farnum, preachers. Erastus 
Otis was pastor at Marlow in 1816-17, 
Amasa Taylor in 1S1S, Zenas Adams 
and Lems'on Walker in. j S 1 9 . John 
Lord, now a member of the Maine 
Conference, a man of great physical 
and mental strength, was the pastor 


if the Methodist Church here in 

■ J0--1. In 1822 Phineas Ball and 

^tlas Frink ; in 1S23, A. D. Merrill 

. ind Justin Spaulding. The former 

■• ■.'.< one of the most prominent men 
: -, the denomination for years, and the 
later afterwards became a missionary 
o South America. In 1824 Joel 
-' eele and George Putnam, The 
: rmer was re-appointed, with Amasa 
Houghton as colleague, in 1825. In 
1 826-7, Leonard Frost; in 1S28, Jo- 
siah A. Scorrett, Benjamin C. Eastman, 
and George Barkley were its circuit 

In 1S29 Marlow is dropped from 
the minutes, but was probably includ- 
ed in the Goshen Circuit. In 1830 
the New Hampshire and Vermont 
Conference were separated from the 
New England, and the official records 
stand New Hampshire and Vermont 
Conference, Vermont District, Unity 
and Goshen Circuit. " The preachers 
were George and Roswell Putnam 
and Dennis Wells. In 1831, Elihu 
Scott and Set. Farewell. The former 
is now a venerable supernumary of the 
New Hampshire Conference, and re- 
sides at Hampton ; the latter, a very 
talented and eccentric man, afterwards 
became presiding elder of Springield 
District, Vermont, and died soon after 
his promotion. He was buried at 

In 1832, H. J. Wooley and J. L, 
Smith. Wooley deceased a few years 
later, and Smith, after years of accep- 
table labor, located and now resides 
in Acworth. 

^ n l ^3c>, N'. Ladd and James Smith ; 
1834, N. Ladd and J. L. Smith ; 1835. J. 
Allen and John Jones. The former 
preached only one Sabbath, when he 
left, and Daniel Jones was associated 
with his brother John on the circuit. 

In 1S36, H. Johnson and L. D. 
Barrows. The latter became eminent 
«n the ministry, and was for years 
president of the New Hampshire Con- 
ference Seminary and Female College, 
at Tilton. In 1837, Caleb Dustin and 
Nathan Howard ; 1838, J. L. Smith; 
E\39, 1, H. Cordon jnd E. G. Per- 
uana; 1840, L. H. Gordon; 1S41, H. 

Nutter; 1842, 11. Nutter and C. H. 
Eastman. The latter soon after locat- 
ed and settled in business in Clare - 
mont ; he was at one time a member 
of the Governor's Council, and died 
at Clare mont universally respected. 

In 1843, Rufus Tilton ; 1844, R. 
Tilton and J. English ; 1845, Franklin 

Up to this time the Methodist 
Church was upon Marlow Hill, but the 
business of the town having concen- 
trated at the ''' Plains," it seemed in- 
dispensable to move the church there. 
This was done, but it caused quite a 
division in the society, and a small 
edifice for worship was erected on the 
Hill. Preaching was for a time sus- 
tained in both places, but finally the 
building was sold, removed to the vil- 
lage, and, with an addition, constitutes 
" Murray Flail." now owned by the 



Thus all three of the 

meeting-houses, originally built on the 
Hill, have been removed to the new 
village, and, greatly improved in ap- 
pearance, are still standing. 

In 1846, Abram Folsom was the 
Methodist preacher here. Some idea 
of the economy of the times may be 
gathered from the fact that the preach- 
er's salary was two hundred and eighty 

In 1847, A-. Folsom and IT. C. Har- 
ris. During this year the society met 
with a severe loss in the death of Dr. 
Bake:-, the venerable father of the late 
Bishop O. C. Baker. In : 848-9, W. 
T. Evans was pastor. Mr. Evans was 
a man of great talents, and afterwards 
became a disciple of Swedenborg ; he 
now resides in the vicinity of Boston. 

In 1S50-2, the pulpit was sup- 
plied by Rev. H. C. Wood, who was 
principal of the Marlow Academy. In 


, G. S. Dearborn, now of the 

Kansas Conference, was pastor. In 
1855-6, G. N. Brvant; 1S57. W. H. 
Jones; 1858-9, O. H. Call ; 1860-61, 
E. A. Smith; 1862, S. Beedle ; 
1863-4, A. P. Hatch; 1865. N. M. 
Bailey; 1S66, S. Quimby, now a su- 
peranuated, and residing at West 
Unity; 1867-8, A. C. Couit ; 1869, 
A. L. Kendall; 1870-1, A. K. How- 

6 4 


ag<*arl :. 


Tavlor ; 
been a 
is a very 
We are 

ard; [872-4, I. 

A. F. Suxton ; r8 

188a, S. G. Kellogg. Mr. 

the present incumbent, has 

popular presiding elder ; he 
energetic and able preacher, 
indebted to him for material aid in 
compiling the above record. 

The mi nines of the Methodist 
Church in Marlow, for 18S0. report 
eighty-four members, fourteen proba- 
tioners, a church valued at five thou- 
sand dollars, and parsonage valued at 
seven hundred dollars. It has a Sab- 
bath-school of one hundred and 
twenty-five members, and a libran of 
six hundred volumes. At [resent, 
preaching is regularly sustained by no 
other society in town 

Of the Methodist preachers appoint- 
ed to Marlow, seven became presiding 
elders, and several others have been 
favorably known as authors, or by 
their connection with educationa; 

stitutions. The church itself has f 

ll r- 

nished men and women who have been; 
favorably known foi eminent piety and 
wide influence. Several, who 'after- 
wards became ' noted in the clerical 

ranks, were born in Marl* 

A mom 

others may be mentioned Bishop O.C. 
Baker, and Eleazer Smith, the latter, 
at one time, chaplain of the Xew 
Hampshire state prison. 

Universalis;]] had quite a foothold 
in Marlow as early as 1799. A society 
was formed in Washington, N. H., as 
its centre, out o[ the believers in that 
town, Stoddard, Marlow, and Lemp- 
ster. Its pastor was Rev. Ebcnezer 
Payne. It flourished for several years, 
but owing to the division in church 
matters already alluded to, and other 
reasons, the believers were scattered, 
and the parish became extinct. 

In 1S22 a new society was formed 
in Washington, and the Rev. Samuel 
Willis became its minister. While 
there he labored in Marlow and the 
adjoining towns. After him. Revs. 
(). A. Skinner, David Cooper, and 
Jo-iah Oilman, all of whom preached 
more or less in Marlow. As there 
was no organization, there was little or 
no progress, save to keep the name 

alive. These ministers preached in 
school-houses. At that time a Uni- 
versalis! in this section was not admit- 
ted into the churches, even though 
he had. a right there. 

An organization was made, of this 
denomination, in Marlow in 1S47, and 
from that date till 1856 the Rev. N". R. 
Y\ right, now of Lynn, Mass.. supplied 
the pulpit. He was much liked, being 
of a \ ery social and friendly disposi- 
tion, and to this day occasionally 
meets with his old parishoners here 
01] the Sabbath and breaks to them 
the bread 01 life. 

We believe that the Rev. Mr. 
Hooper, now of Canada, was the last 
regular preacher for this denomination 
in Marlow. Asa Way, an old resident, 
left the Universalists of this town one 
thousand dollars, and also willed five 
hundred dollars to the public schools. 
Elder Palmer was the first Christian 

The first High School, in Marlow 
was taught by Rev., (riles Bailey, a 
Universalist preacher of Acworth, in 
the hall of Jones's Hotel. There is a 
flourishing academy, called the Mar- 
low Academy. Two hundred and fifty 
dollars are annually raised for the sup- 
port of the Spring and Autumn terms 
in the district where it is located. 
This institution is taught this season 
by Francis W. Lane, a. m. (of Ash- 
burnham, Mass.), an experienced and 
popular instructor, and the school is 
making fine progress. There are eight 
public schools in town. The citizens oi 
Marlow have always taken great inter- 
est and pride in all matters of an edu- 
cational character. Liberal and pub- 
lic spirited, they have well sustained 
their schools, which are proving not 
only an honor to the place, but one of 
the chief factors in its prosperity. 
District number four has reason to be 
congratulated for securing and retain- 
ing the ^ervives of its present teacher 
so long. Mi.^s Sarah Boynton has 
taught eleven consecutive terms in tins 
district. She is a native of Brattle- 
borough, Vt., and is a born scho I- 
ma'm, but it is possible that she will 
assume the charge oi" a cozy dwelling 



-■_ long, as its mistress, and thus be- 
i -e a permanent citizen of old 

Isaac Baker was the first, or about 

first physician in town; he settled 

• Raker's Corner, where he built him 

ine two-story house. This part of 

\ ■■- town derived its name from him. 

:•• soon had a large practice, and 

ived to a good old age, highly hon- 

•.;! by all. He was succeeded by 

f nomas J. Stevens, his son-in-law, who 

jttled on Marlow Hill, where he lived 

till 1838, when he moved to the 

Plains, erected a substantial brick 

house, and continued his practice till 


We should have stated that Dr. 
1 ,yman Brooks followed his profession 
in this town from 182 1 to 1823, when 
he removed to Acworth, where he 
practiced with great success till his 
death, in [865. 

Dr. Stevens sold out to Dr. Reuben 
Hatch, and went to Charlestpwn, 
M • ■■.-.., where he died the past summer 
at an advanced age. Dr. Hatch was 
succeeded by Marshall Perkins, Croy- 
don, in 1S50. He was then a young 
man, and has remained in Marlow 
ever since. He is known throughout 
the state as a skilful physician, with a 
large practice. While Dr. Perkins was 
absent in the army as an assistant sur- 
geon, Dr. Richardson, now of Wal- 
pole, was located here for a short time ; 
also, Dr. R. G. Mather; the latter, 
H nvever, enlisted soon after his arrival 
as an assistant surgeon in the army. 
l^r. Perkins was attached to the 14th 
Regiment New Hampshire Volun- 

Several physicians have been born 
m Marlow. Among them, Zepheniah 
and Michael Tubbs ; Wister Stevens, 
son of Thomas J. Stevens, now living 
in Charlestown, Mass., a highly edu- 
cated gentleman, who studied several 
years in Germany, and who is now 
considered one of the most skilful 
physicians and surgeons in New Eng- I 
; ; John F. Butler, now located in 
Chesterfield, X.H., is a promising young 
- >r, also ; and Herbert F. Pitcher, 
svno has just commenced practice. 

with every prospect of success, at 
Milan, N. H. Of the brothers Tubbs, 
spoken of above, the first settled in 
New York, and the latter in Deering, 
N. H. 

Among those of other professions, 
we should mention Prof. Sanborn Ten- 
ney, who, though born in Stoddard, 
moved to Marlow in early life, and is 
claimed as a Marlow boy. He grad- 
uated at Amherst College, was at one 
time professor of natural history in 
" Yassar," and was afterwards professor 
in Williams College. At the time of 
his death, he was regarded as one of 
the ripest scholars of the times, having 
become the author of several text- 
books in geology and natural history. 
He passed away suddenly, in Michigan, 
while on his way, with a party of scien- 
tific gentlemen -who had started on an 
exploring expedition, to the Rocky 

Calista M. Huntley {Marie Calisfo 
Piccioli) was born in Marlow, April n, 
1 841, and with her parents moved to 
Boston in 1845. and from thence to 
Lynn in 185 1. At a very early age 
she manifested great musical talent, 
and seemed to feel the strongest de- 
sire to cultivate her gift. The sooner 
to accomplish her darling wish, she 
purchased a sewing machine, and 
after working upon it till its price was 
paid, she, at the tender age of twelve, 
began to save her wages till she was 
enabled to purchase a piano. Then 
her musical education commenced in 
earnest. Before she had taken any 
lessons, Calista had mastered many of 
the problems of this beautiful science. 
After receiving instruction a while from 
a competent teacher, she herself gave 
lessons, remaining a pupil still. Her 
talent not only secured scholars, but 
she ere long was offered the leading 
place in churches and at festivals, so 
she was able to continue her favorite 
study. In April, 1866, she went to 
Italy, and pursued her chosen voca- 
tion, taking lessons till she had per- 
fected a thorough course of study, 
under the tuition of the best masters. 
In the meantime she gave concerts 
and other entertainments to pay her 



expenses, under the stage name of 
Marie Calisto. In r86o she married 
Geromano Piecioli. Since then she 
has visited and sang in all the principal 
cities of England. Ireland, Spain, Nor- 
way, Sweden, Denmark, and, in fact, 
over the whole civilized, world, and has 
won a lasting and well deserved tame. 
She speaks four languages fluently, and 
though she of necessity has quite a 
foreign air, stilt she is very easy in her 
manners, broad in her religious views, 
and in all respects is a lady of fine 
appearance, lo whom the humblest 
may easily find access at her elegant 
home. Her residence is in Italy, but 
she is now temporarily stopping in 
Lynn, Mass. Marlow has good reason 
to be proud of this distinguished ar- 

Here, too, was the native place of 
Rosinee Richardson, familiarly known 
as " Fat Rosinee," who in her day was 
the wonder of the world. She trav- 
elled with Barnum for several years, 
and died not long since in Florida. 

Nahum Stone, son of Phineas, who 
in olden times had a small tannery at 
the head of Stone Pond, was a native 
of Maiiow. He at one time owned 
and edited what is now known as the 
Cheshire Republican, at Keene. 

Among the early settlers and sub- 
stantial citizens passed away, was Mr. 
Farley, who came from Billerica, 
Mass., and who, at one time, owned 
the principal part of the " Plains." 
selling out his mill rights to Mr. Rus- 
sel Huntley. Mr. Farley's son mar- 
ried Susan P. Pierce, whose father was 
a cousin to President Pierce. 

Widow Farley has a promising son, 
also a native of Meadow, Dallas J. Far- 
ley, at present an engineer on board 
the U. S. survey steamer Hassler. 
This lady showed us the model of an 
elegant cannon of pure nickel. taken from 
metal on board the Kearsarge.and made 
by her son. It attracted much attention 
at various fairs, as has. also, the beau- 
tiful specimens of California seaweed 
which he has sent home. 

One of the prominent men of " ve 
\ olden times "in Marlow was Genera] 
^ Elisha Huntley, son of Nathan, re- 

ferred to. He lived in a large two- 
story "house on the Hill, kept hotel, 
was postmaster, and a justice of the 
peace. He was not only commanding 
officer of the old militia, but was 
judge of the Court of Common Pleas 
in 1S09 ; was, also, appointed judge of 
the Circuit Court in 181 6, and judge 
of the Court of Sessions in rS2j. He 
lived to an advanced age. Mr. Aaron 
Huntley was one of the early inhabi- 
tants of Marlow, and built a house 
on the site now occupied by Dudley 
Huntley. The old cellar on the site 
occupied by Hezekiah Huntley, still 
remains on the land owned by Mr. 
Luther Huntley. 

Wells Way, commonly called the 
" Old Squire," was a very popular and 
prominent man ; almost all arbitration 
was left out to him. He was a town 
clerk for many years and held various 
other offices. Silas Mack and Samuel 
Royce were both town clerks and se- 
lectmen for many years. 

Old manuscript records tell us that 
in 17SS there were forty-two votes 
cast in Marlow. John Langdon had 
thirty-six; John Sullivan, six. In 1800 
it was voted not to tax a widow's cow. 
At the annual town-meeting, the same 
year, William Lewis was chosen con- 
stable and collector ; he was to receive 
three dollars and eighty cents for his 
labor in the latter office. 

Baker's Corner was in olden times 
the only business resort. Here was 
a flourishing store, a potash manufac- 
tory, and a hotel. The public house 
first opened had Samuel Richardson 
for proprietor. All of these buildings 
subsequently passed into the hands of 
William Baker. The first store ever 
kept in town was opened by Mr. 
Lamphier in the house now owned by 
Curtis Winham, on the Hill. Soon 
after. Francis D. Ellis opened a store 
and hotel, and a hostelry was also 
started by Elisha Huntley, Esq. Mr. 
Ellis abandoned Ins hotel, but continu- 
I ed his store, and Amos F. Fiske be- 
} came associated with him. After 
; many years, Mr. Ellis sold cut to Mr. 
• Fiske arid removed to Boston, going 
I into trade on Kiiby street ; Mr. Fiske 



till he removed to the ! the entire length of the town, in 


The hotel on the hill most noted 
was kept by Almon Smith, familiarly 
known far and wide as " Peg Smith." 
Cheat times used to he enjoyed by 
"the boys " in that weather worn edi- 
fice, such hilarity as would now shut up 
a respectable tavern. Marlow Hill 
was celebrated for its muster days ; 
the 28th regiment for many years in 
succession mustered here. At these 
times, " Peg's " establishment was. of 
course, in its glory. It is said that 
men would ride into the bar-room on 
horseback and call for their hot punch. 
Stopping up the sink-spout and pumping 
into the receptacle till the water ran out of 
the front door was but one of the numer- 
ous tricks performed on those occa- 
sions. Marlow Hill was indeed regard- 
ed once as a iC big place," but only 
three small houses now remain of all 
its ancient splendor. 

Town-meetings were held on the 
Hill, in the old meeting-house, till about 
1S40. The last town-meeting held on 
the Hill lasted two days. " On the 
afternoon of the first day, it was voted 
to adjourn to Jones's Hotel, at South 
Marlow — so-called then. There was 
great excitement when this vote was 
being taken, as the " Hill party" were 
determined to continue the meetings 
there ; but they were beaten and this 
was the last town-meeting ever held in 
that part of the town. So everything 
of general interest gradually left the 
Hill. South Marlow, Sodam, " Poverty 
Plains," though it only possessed a 
few houses then, soon began to grow, 
lor here were excellent water privileges 
that business men began to appre- 

Here Joel Tenney, now living in 
Hancock, an aged man, opened the 
first store. He was a famous auction- 
eer in his day, and many remember 
him well. Then came Samuel Buss, 
Reuben Griffin, Aaron Tenney, Stephen 
Day, and others. Arthur W. Fisk, one 
of the former merchants at the Plains, 
is now a prominent citizen of Wash- 
ington, D. C. 

Ashuelot river flows through nearly 

south-westerly course; affording many 
valuable water privileges which have 
been for a long time improved. The 
first tannery ever built in town was 
erected on the brook near Freeman 
Phelus's rake manufactory, by Ward 
Ware. The first clothing-mill was 
also at that place, and the first carding 
establishment was put up by a Mr. 
Keyse, The first grist-mill on the 
Ashuelot, south of the village, was 
built near Andrew Town's. We have 
elsewhere referred to a tannery car- 
ried on by Phineas Store, near the 
head of the pond bearing his name. 
There was, also, one near Baker's 
Corner, under the management of a 
Mr. Muslin. 

The first tannery built at the present 
Marlow village, was put up in 1835, by 
L.Huntley. The building was 20x40, 
single boarded, and run by water. 
The vats, thirty-two in number, were 
all out doors, and were rather poor. 
In i S3 7. Hon. James- Burnap, a native 
of Nelson, having completed his trade 
as a tanner and currier, came to Mar- 
low and secured a small job of finish- 
ing leather. He had not been here 
long before he purchased the tannery. 
The first year the firm was Bitmap and 
Way. In 1838 he formed a partner- 
ship with his brother under the firm 
name of J. and J. Bitmap, which 
Josiah continued till 1S56. In 1S49 ne 
put in steam, and made some other 
improvements and enlargements. In 
1S56 he enlarged again. In 1S59 he 
put in a new engine of thirty-five 
horse power, and again enlarged the 
tannery. In 1862 he took in his fore- 
man, Mr. James Howard, as a partner, 
anal the firm continued till 1S69, when 
the)' dissolved ; since that time Mr. 
Howard has remained as foreman. In 
j 864 the tannery was entirely burned. 
Mr. Burnap immediately re-built and 
enlarged the original plan. On Nov. 
4, 1S77, it was again consumed by fire, 
and in about six weeks it was once- 
more rebuilt. 

It now contains nearly two hundred 
pits, and is one ol the finest buildings 
of the kind in the state, being sur- 



mounted with a handsome cupola. 
In a)l its arrangements it is now as 
complete and well-regulated as taste 
anil business foresight can make it. 
It is one of the leading industries of 
the town. The capacity of the yard is 
for seventy-five thousand calf-skins and 
six thousand sides, these having been 
tanned here in a single year. 

In 1868 Mr. Burnap bought the old 
tannery of C. D. Symonds, together 
with a large lot of land, and two dwell- 
ing houses. Here, in 1S69, he put in a 
circular saw and other appurtenances, 
and has since sawed about three hun- 
dred thousand feet of lumber annually. 
Recent improvements have also been 
made on tins mill. Mr. Burnap is 
also a farmer on quite an extensive 
scale. He cuts about two hundred 
tons of hay per year ; keeps nearly six 
hundred sheep and lambs ; has. about 
thirty hogs ; and expects this year to 
raise about one thousand bushels of 
roots, potatoes, etc. Fie also keeps 
eight yoke of oxen, twenty horses, and 
runs two six-horse teams regularly, and 
often more. 

Mr. Burnap owns fourteen horses 
and employs thirty hands. He is also 
the senior member in the firm of J. S. Tuft 
and Co., manufacturers of all kinds of 
pottery ware, and importers of crock- 
ery and glass ware, at Keene, with a 
capital of sixty thousand dollars in- 
vested. For the sketch of Mr. Bur- 
nap's tannery and other information 
we are indebted to Mr. E. G. Huntley. 

There are now three grocery and dry- 
goods stores in town : one kept by Jos- 
lin and Messer, proprietors also of a 
meat market ; one by Ho sea Towne, 
postmaster, and one by E. A. Jones. 
There is one or more stores for fancy- 
goods ; an apothecary store, kept by 
E. N. Howe, town-clerk ; a light gro- 
cery store, by E. Shepardson, and two 
millinery parlors. 

There are two very fine hotels in 
town — Jones's, which used to do a 
large business, but which, owing to the 
ill health of the proprietor, has not 
been filled this season. Mr. Jones 
and his admirable helpmeet know how 
to keep a hotel, and we hope that an- 

other year his health will be such that 
he can take care 

of the 

osi who 

would like to patronize him. The 
Forest House, which was built by 
Capt. Edmund Jones, in 1833. and kept 
by him twenty years, is flourishing 
finely, and is well managed. 

'['he present population of Marlow 
is rising seven hundred. The villasre 

proper contains nearly 


neatly painted dwelling houses, and 
many of them have recently been re- 
modeled and greatly improved. Con- 
siderable building is going on tins 
year, and everything about the place 
is suggestive of thrift and industry. 

J. Q. Jones is doing a driving busi- 
ness in sash, blinds and doors ; E. B. 
Gee in his saw, shingle and grist mills ; 
and the Phelpses in the rake, cooper- 
ing and blacksmith line. 

There have been few better man- 
aged farms in the state than those that 
eneircle old Marlow. The land is pro- 
ductive and well cultivated ; good 
stock is kept, and the farmers pride 
themselves on their annual exhibits of 
cattle and produce. This town has 
long been famous for its fine fairs, is 
out of debt, and has money in the 
treasury, and to let. 

Several fatal accidents have occur- 
red in Marlow. Daniel Mack, son of 
Silas Mack, Esq., fell dead on the road 
from school, Monday, Feb., 26, 1 79S, 
and his burial took place Wednesday., 
Feb. 28. Gilbert Burdett was burned 
to death in October, 1864, while going 
into Bitmap's tannery, which was 
wreathed in flames, to obtain his 
clothing from a room occupied by 
himself and companions in the upper 
part of the building. Many years ago. 
a man was struck by lightning and in- 
stantly killed while standing in the 
doorway of a blacksmith shop at 
Baker's Corner. Mr. Peter Fox lost 
two very promising sons by singular 
accidents. One was killed by the 
overturn of a cart he was driving. 
While riding in it, the oxen became 
frightened, near the forks of the road 
in the east part of the town, and run- 
ning the wheels up on a stone wall, 
the young man was thrown oik and 



instantly killed. The other son came ! some of the historical tacts regarding 
10 his death by the fall of a tree in the the towns of Washington and Marlow, 
I atimer pasture. which have never before been given to 

Only two persons ever lived to be type. If they serve no other purpose. 
one hundred years old in Marlow — some future historian may glean from 
Mrs. Downing and Mrs. Gustin. them a few paragraphs worthy of being 

We have thus imperfectly sketched ' more substantially preserved. 



Few states of the Union can boast 
of the honorable distinction of being 
the birthplace of a President. Nine- 
teen American citizens have borne, at 
different times, the title of the chief- 
executive of this republic, but only 
eight of our sovereign states can lay 
claim to the place of their nativity. 
Virginia leads the van. She is the 
mother of seven Presidents ; Washing- 
ton, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Har- 
rison, Tyler and Taylor were born 
under her skies. North Carolina fol- 
lows next in precedence, and claims 
Polk, Jackson and Johnson. New 
York produced Van Buren and Fill- 
more. Grant and Hayes were born 
in Ohio ; the two Adamses, in Massa- 
chusetts ; Buchanan, in Pennsylvania ; 
Lincoln, in Kentucky ; and Pierce, in 
New Hampshire. So our little Gran- 
he State need not blush among her 
sisters, for the regal circlet of power 
glows upon her forehead. Her breezes 
have rocked the cradles of great men. 
From her portals they have gone 
forth, a muster-roll of worthies, war- 
ders, statesmen, jurists, divines, schol- 
ars and journalists. One o\ her sons 
has grasped the reins of empire in his 
hands. Three others — Cass, Greeley 
and Hale-— have been candidates for 
that exalted place. Proud and thrill- 
ing memories belong to her, this rug- 
ged, hardy state throned among the 
hills: and while her breezes blow 

blandly around us, and her sunlight 
thrills our blood like wine, let us visit 
her proudest shrine, the richest gem 
in all her casket of jewels — the birth- 
place of a President. 

In southern New Hampshire, bear- 
ing the name derived from Col. John 
FPU, of Boston, one of its early 
grantees, is the town of Hillsborough. 
Its most important and nourishing vil- 
lage is called Hillsborough Bridge. 
For a busy, lively place, the " Bridge " 
is not surpassed by any village oi its 
size in the state. Here was formerly 
the terminus of the Contoocook Val- 
ley Railroad, -which now extends to 
Peterborough. A dozen manufac- 
tories, fifteen or twenty stores, a bank, 
two churches, a hotel, and a hundred 
thrifty looking dwelling-houses speak 
for the enterprise and populousne^s of 
the place. We will not stop here, 
however, not even to see our friend 
Ferry, editor of the spicy Hillsboi'ongh 
Messenger, or Frank FF Pierce, neph- 
ew of the President, who has a law- 
office in the place, but we will take a 
seat in the Washington stage coach, 
and driving due west over a pictur- 
esque and charming road, halt at a 
little hamlet embowered among trees 
in a happy valley. The spot is three 
miles distant from the " Bridge," and 
is known far and wide as Hillsborough 
Lower Village. On the right hand side, 
at the foot of a hill, is seen a square, com- 


mbdious, two-story old-fashioned house, 
with an ell, also two stories, and 
oral large barns and she( 
and all pain-ted while. 
build in 2; presents an 

Is attached, ; 
Externally, the | 
ppearance but 

little different from many other old \ 
houses scattered up and down our | 

country towns, but when once your j 
footsteps have token you up the walk | 
to the entrance door, our word for it, j 
you will not regret that you have stray- 
ed to its portals. Built during the 
first year of the century, it was for 
nearly forty years the residence of 
Governor. Benjamin Pierce, and the 
place where his yet more illustrious 
son was burn, on a late November day, 
seventy-six years ago. The old house, j 
therefore, has a history, and a rare one, i 
too, which fairly challenges our en- 

It was in 17S5 that Col. Benjamin 
Pierce, a patriot of the Revolution. | 
who fought all through the battles of 
that bloody struggle, seeking for a 
home, came in his wanderings to 
Hillsborough. On the spot where this 
mansion now stands, there stood a hut 
built of logs. A small stream flowing 
near by contained a plenty Of the 
finest trout, and the young patriot, who 
always had an eye for the facilities to 
hunt and fish, determined to make 
this his home; Spying the owner of 
the hut at a distance, he. sought him, 
and after a short conversation, asked 
him if he would sell his farm. The 
man replied that he would. Colonel 
Pierce gave him one hundred and 
fifty dollars for the place, and thus 
settled down in the wilderness as a 
farmer. It was up hill weak for a time, 
but industry and perseverance brought 
success, and the pioneer prospered. 
The original purchase comprised a 
hundred and fifty acres. Several hun- 
dred acres were subsequently added at 
different times, until he lorded it over 
a demesne grand as that of a southern 
planter. The log cabin was pulled 
down, and a large and stately man- 
sion was erected on its site, where a 
numerous family of children grew up, 
and where the owner dispensed a gen- 
erous and elegant hospitality, for Ben- 

jamin Pierce was now a mam of mean 
the squire of the village, and a risi 

He married, first. Miss Elizabeth 
Andrews, who died at the early age of 
twenty-one, leaving one child, a daugh- 
ter. His second wife was Miss Anne 
Kendrick, by whom he had eight chil- 
dren, the seventh of whom became 
the fourteenth President of the United 
States. In t 7S6 President Sullivan, of 
New Hampshire, appointed Colonel 
Pierce a brigadier-genera) of militia. 
Prom this date till near his death he 
always held some office, and he grad- 
ually rose to be the most influential 
man in the state. He was democratic 
in principles and a follower of Jeffer- 
son and Jackson. He was four times 
a candidate for governor, and twice 
carried the state victoriously against 
such Federalists as David L. Morrill 
and John Bell, when Ins party was in 
the minority. The old house witness- 
ed gay scenes in those years. Every- 
body was a friend of the governor, and 
the whole neighborhood assembled 
under the roof to the feast and the 
dance. It actually seems to laugh 
now, with memories of the jollity it 
has seen in days gone by. 

The Pierce mansion stands in the 
midst of grounds which in former 
years were laid out with elegant taste, 
and embellished with fruit trees and 
shrubbery. Several handsome, stately 
trees embower the venerable roof. 
Around the front side of the building 
extends a broad and generous piazza. 
Surely none ever gave a more genial 
welcome. Sitting here in the morning 
sunlight or at the sunset hour, and 
looking out on the beauty beyond, it 
would certainly seem nothing strange 
to see three shining ones appear, as 
they did to the aged patriarch, sitting 
at the door of his tent under the 
great terebinth on the plains of 
Mamre. A visitor arriving in a car- 
riage either alights at the front en- 
trance, or passes by the broad drive 
under the shade of thrift} maples to 
the swarded yard beyond. Emerging 
from the east entrance door, the old 
proprietor \v.i^.d to mount his horse 



from this block, to ride to Exeter 
court-house or to Hopkinton, where, 
as a member of the New Hampshire 
Assembly, he long served his fellow- 
citizens of Hillsborough. At a later 
day he rode in a coach, which carried 
him in state to the capitol ai Concord, 
the people all flocking along the way 
to get a glance at " the Governor." 

On the east beyond the yard there 
is an enclosed garden of an acre or 
more, with walks, a summer-house, 
and in the centre an artificial pond, 
now clicked with debris and weeds, 
but in the old governor's time well 
stocked with trout. These grounds 
must always have been a favorite re- 
sort oi the family and their guests. 
Their greatest glory now are the 
grand, shadowy old trees. Every- 
where we ramble, they outspread their 
arms over us and murmur, ;- ' Bene- 
dicite." On the trunk of one an acute 
eye can still detect a wound in the 
bark, said to have been the linked 
names of Hawthorne and Franklin 
Pierce, and cut there by the former in 
their college days. In the summer- 
house, covered by ' climbing 
vines, have sat grave judg__ 
courtly scholars whose eloquent voices 
have long been silent. Doubtless, too, 
softer tones have rippled there, in 
sport, in jest, in earnest, and its walls 
might, perchance, whisper of many 
a love tryst. 

Entering the house by the south 
door, we step into a large hall which 
formerly extended through the middle 
of the mansion, but has since been 
shortened. Yet it is the noblest part 
of the house to-day. It is wide and 
cool, has an air of spaciousness and 
grandeur, and is a delicious retreat in 
the heat of day or in the hush of even- 
ing. The walls of this room are lined 
with family portraits, those of the gov- 
ernor and his lady, President Pierce, 
Gen. John MeNiel and wife, Judge 
Chandler E. Potter and wife— three 
generations. We notice the broad 
stairway and the quaintly carved bal- 
usters, and are transported to the 
tune when a dignified, portly gentle- 
man used to go up and down the 


stairs, and ladies, dressed in long 
flounced skirt.-, and curious shaped 
bodices and stately head dresses — the 
costume of 1830 — nied through these 

doors. Upon tins very floor played a 
merry group of children, among 
whom was a boy with hazel eyes and 
brown curly locks, who, less than fifty 
years afterwards, was to sir among the 
great rulers of the earth, in the place 
which Washington had occupied be- 
fore him, and which Jefferson, Adams, 
Van Puren and Jackson adorned. 
Think of it. country youths and city 
youths, wasting your time in frivolous 
amusements, and your manhood in 
debauchery, think of tins child, the 
son of a simple country squire, crad- 
led not in affluence, who was taught 
to work for himself, and who by hon- 
est toil and persevering industry rose 
to be more than the peer of kings. If 
you want romance, here it is, and both 
rosy and sombre hued. 

On the left of the hall-way is the 
great parlor, with its large chandeliers, 
its heavy cornice, its massive hearth- 
stone with antique brass andirons, and 
its walls covered with the original 
paper put on nearly eighty years ago. 
This paper is very thick and extends 
from ceiling to floor, embossed in gor- 
geous colors, with landscapes, tourna- 
ments, old castles, marine views and 
civil festivals most correctly represent- 
ed. The room teems with historic 
associations. Here were married the 
governor's daughter, Elizabeth, and 
her two daughters, Mrs. Potter and 
Mrs. Benham, and brilliant ceremonies 
attended all of these events. Beauti- 
ful and antique relics are distributed 
about, war trophies of the Pierces and 
McNiels, Mexican relics, curious old 
mirrors and chairs, and a host of 
articles too numerous to specialize. 

Opposite is the sitting-room, equally 
loft)- and spacious, its windows on one 
side looking upon the highway, on the 
other upon the garden. This room 
has a more modern furnishing, but. is 
still a dreamy old place with more 
than one hint of bygone grandeur. 
There are pictures on the walls, sev- 
eral pretty landscapes, and some more 


portrait?, this time of Genera] and 
Mrs. Samuel Andrews, the" present 
proprietors, and of Col. Benjamin 
Pierce, a brother of Franklin, who 
was an ofiucer in the regular army and 
died young. There are eight rooms 
on the ground floor of the square 
part. In the northeast corner, now- 
used as a sleeping room, is the apart- 
ment where Franklin Fierce was born. 
Flis cradle is still preserved here, and 
in this room is also the old governor's 
side-board, which old time hospitality 
required should be always garnished 
with wines or a huge bowl of punch. 
That was in the ante-Washingtonian 
days, when men could drink their pint 
of Antigua without fearing any enemy 
but the gout, and when the aroma of 
good old Xeres was not. distasteful to 
the ladies. 

The second floor is provided with 
six sleeping chambers, all opening on 
a spacious and airy hah. None of 
these rooms demand special descrip- 
tion, although mighty heroes have- 
slept in some of them. Descending 
to the cellar, we have pointed out to 
us the various compartments of the 
governor's domestic repository. Every- 
thing is on a grand scale. In the 
wine cellar there were annually stored 
twenty casks of wine, and fifty barrels 
of cider — the good old New England 
beverage. The potato bin will accom- 
modate five hundred bushels of tubers. 
In the wing are a dozen other rooms, 
all of good dimensions, particularly 
the kitchen, which is one of the old- 
fashioned sort. The barns and out- 
houses are on the same generous 
scale, and have been kept in June re- 

The founder of this mansion was a 
great man in his day, and with but one 
exception was probably the most pop- 
ular governor ever elected in New 
Hampshire. Even to-day, after the 
lapse of forty years, his very name 
touches the heart almost to a burst of 
enthusiasm. His personal appearance, 
as it has been preserved by the por- 
traits on the walls of the mansion and 
in the State House at Concord, is in- 
dicative of the man. There is some- 

thing of the look of a Jackson in that 
face. The jaws have the same lion- 
like solidity, the lips are firm, and the 
nose identical with that same feature 
which we observe in the portrait of 
the hero of the hermitage, but the 
eves have a merry eleam, and the 

rubicund visag 



the thick-set, 

portly figure tell more plainly than 
words can of the frank, fearless, good 
nature d, good living, hospitable squire, 
whose name could rally more voters 
to the polls than that of any other 
man in the stare, after John. T. Gil- 

Grand as the house is, one would 
hardly think that it had been the scene 
of so much romance and glory. Yet 
there is no dwelling within our state 
that can evoke more significant asso- 
ciations than does this rural mansion. 
Here dwelt the embryo statesman and 
President through all his boyhood 
days. Out of these windows looked 
the eyes that were to gaze on the 
splendors of the White House, and 
the varied scenes of foreign lands. In 
this very yard rang the voice which 
was to stir listening senates with its 
tones. Around this place centers allof the 
associations connected with his youthful 
years. Here was the theater of his 
early sports, here his school-days be- 
gan, here he had his first visions of 
future eminence, or of the possibility 
of it. Through this very door he 
passed with his college honors upon 
him, the friend of Scowe, of Haw- 
thorne, of Longfellow, and others 
equally known to fame. Here, also, 
he came with the trappings of state 
upon him, surrounded by a galaxy of 
the noblest Americans. Great men, 
statesmen, writers, divines, and sol- 
diers have been domiciled under this 
roof. Nearly all of the leading men 
of New Flampshire, for fifty years, 
visited at Squire Pierce's house. Isaac 
Hill, the Athertons, Ebenezer Webster, 
Judge W'oodbury, John T. Gihnan, 
Samuel Bell and Governor Steele were 
more than once guests of the governor. 
And, afterwards, Hawthorne, \j<. Ap- 
pleton, the McNiels, and others came 
to see the young lawyer, their friend. 



John McNiel, in particular, was often 

■a visitor there, coming every Sunday | 
night to pay his addresses to a certain i 
staid, beautiful maid, who afterwards j 
became his wife. 

There were several lair daughters in J 
lire house of Pierce, but Elizabeth, j 
the eldest, the daughter, of the ftjst 
wife, was the queen of the family. 
At all tire sewing-bees and tea assem- 
blies of tire country side, Elizabeth 
Fierce was the belle among the village 
maidens. Many of the leading young 
men of the town desired her fair 
hand and the heart that went with it. 
Eut John McNiel, the son of her 
father's old comrade in arms, tall, 
handsome and manly, was the favored 
suitor. The McNiels were a lighting 
race. The family came to America 
from Ireland, where, doubtless, the 
ancestor of the race imbibed the mili- 
tary spirit from his friends who had 
experienced the one hundred and five 
days of excruciating horrors at the 
famous siege of Londonderry. The 
first McNiel in America was John, who 
settled in Londonderry. N. PL, in 
i 719. He was a man of great energy 
of character and. of indomitable cour- 
age, tall, erect and athletic, physically, 
characteristics that marked ail his de- 
scendants. Gen. John McNiel was 
the third in descent from his name- 
sake, the Indian lighter, and was fitted 
by nature for a military man. Firm, 
resolute, of indomitable energy, pos- 
sessing superior bravery under all cir- 
cumstances, and a quickness of appre- 
hension which enabled him in the heat 
of battle to seize upon an)- mistake of 
the enemy, he was calculated to rise 
to a superior position in his chosen 
profession. In physique he was a 
model of manly beauty and devel- 
oped strength, and was capable of en- 
during a great amount of hardship and 

John McNiel was a captain in the 
eleventh regiment of infantry, com- 
manded by Col. Campbell, when he 
married Miss Pierce. Who would not 
hke to know the particulars of that 
courtship? When Alphonso and Ju- 
liana, after flirting with and kissine 

half a dozen other girls ami men, 
engage themselves now-a-days, be- 
tween lire pauses in the waltz, and hie 
away the next morning to announce 
the fact to all their friends, the story 
does not serin sweet at all. Hut it 
was different in the early days oi our 
century. Young lovers saw each 
other seldom only in the presence 1 

lorn only in the prpcpnrp nf 

; letters were studied and for- 

and the engagement was kept 

secret according t< 

custom. Human 
hearts are tire same, however, in all 
ages, and love was as strong and fiery 
then, as now, though hidden under 
modest reserve. Many a time, un- 
doubtedly, John and Elizabeth walked 
arm in arm along this path, talking the 
same old story that lovers always have. 
One almost envies them the delicious 
thrill of the sacred secret when their 
hands touched in the stately quadrille, 
or when they wandered up the hill to 
church of a Sabbath morning, as 
their eyes told the sweet unspoken 

They were married, and John .Mc- 
Niel went into the war of 1S12, where 
his valor and skill soon won him pro- 
motion. He led his regiment, being 
its major, in the battle of Chippewa, 
and for meritorious conduct in that 




colonel by brevet, July 15. 18 1.4. 
Ten days afterwards he was brevetted 
colonel for '"distinguished valor" in 
the battle of Niagara or Lundy's Lane, 
where two other brother officers, both 
natives of the Granite State — Eleazor 
Ripley and James Miller — won dis- 
tinction by their heroism and military 
capacity. Lie was made a brigadier- 
general after the close of the war. and 
remained in the service until 1S29, 
when he resigned to become surveyor 
of the port of Boston, to which posi- 
tion President Jackson had appointed 
him. He held this office ten years, 
performing its duties with honor and 

In 1859, Governor Pierce died, and 
his son-in-law, Gen. McNiel, became 
master of the mansion and surround- 
ing estate. The hero lived there ten 
years, holding public oiiice most of the 



time. The last five years of his liie 
lie was afflicted with ill health, the 
result of the hardships lie endured 
during his old campaigns on the Can- 
adian border. His leg, which had 
been shattered at Lundy's Lane, also 
troubled him. He did not, however, 
relinquish labor until the last. Early 
in 1S50 he went to Washington, I). C, 
on business, and died there suddenly 
Feb. 25, at the age of sixty-six years. 
His remains lie in the Congressional 
Cemetery at that place, under a magnifi- 
cent monument which his grateful coun- 
try erected. Mrs, McNiel died in r S 5 5 . 
The old house now came into the 
possession of their daughter. Miss 
Fanny Maria McNiel. Her famous 
relative was now in the White House, 
and when he came into New Hamp- 
shire, as he often did, he was enter- 
tained by Miss McNiel. The man- 
sion revived its old days of glory. 
Cabinet ministers and foreign secre- 
taries talked statesmanship and poli- 

tics m its room? 

lair. Gchcatc 

Mrs. Pierce and stately Mrs. Marcy 
exchanged jests and witty repartee 
with their generous hostess. Twice, 
certainly, [he whole country side gath- 
ered there at the invitation, of leading 
townsmen to do honor to the chief 
magistrate. Long tables were set out 
of doors under the trees. There were 
feasting and speech-making. The 
wine and the cider flowed, and the 
festivals ended with music and danc- 
ing. Brilliant must have been the 
scene, the lights shining upon lawn 
and garden, as they glowed from the 
windows or hung suspended from the 
limbs of trees. And as the courtly 
and urbane Pierce saw the demonstra- 
tion in his honor, and listened to die 
hearty greeting and the congratula- 
tions, did he think of the struggles of 
his boyhood and his early manhood? 
Here he had commenced the business 
of life, here he had met failure, 'and 
later,success,and nowhere was the scene 
of his triumph. The greatest man in 
the nation, greater than a Lane, how 
his pulses must have throbbed with 
pride. Vet his beginning had not 
been promising. 

lilure. Put there were 
reatness in the young 

On the opposite side of the road, 
there stands a long, low building in 
good repair. This was formerly the 
old horseshed, in one corner 01 which 
a room was finished for a law office, 
where the future President first '*' set- 
up in business." It was in the year 
1827 that young Pierce, fresh from 
college, began his practice of law in 
this place. Few who saw the young 
attorney then imagined they were 
looking on the future chief magistrate 
of the nation. Not much above the 
middle size, nervous and hesitating in 
speech, he did not even look as 
if he would succeed as a lawyer. In- 
deed, his first effort as an advocate 
was a marked 
elements of 
man. and he could not be discour- 
aged. Said he to a friend who con- 
doled with him : "I will try nine hun- 
dred and ninety-nine cases if clients 
will continue to trust me, and, if I fail 
just as I have to-day, will try the thou- 
sandth. I shall live to argue cases in 
this court-house in a manner that wiii 
neither mortify myself nor my friends." 
He made his assertion good, and even 
as a lawyer, Franklin Pierce had few 
superiors. George Barstow, Esq., was 
the last practitioner of law who used the 
office. The innovation of railroads 
left the old village out in the cold, and 
carried its business to other places, 
and the law office of an American 
President is now devoted to the hum- 
ble use of a carriage-house. 

In 1856, another great man became 
master of the Pierce mansion. Judge 
Chandler E. Potter, by his marriage 
in the autumn of that year with Miss 
Fanny McNiel, added another to the 
roil of famous names who:,e memory 
the old house has embalmed forever. 
Judge Potter was prominent in the 
legal courts, in the military annals, 
and. in the literature of his state. A 
graduate of Dartmouth, and a law 
student of Ichabod Bartlett, he prac- 
ticed law in East Concord, and was 
for seven years judge of the police 
court at Manchester. For u long time 
he was colonel of the Amoskeag Vet- 
erans. But his predominant tastes 


were antiquarian, and his talents liter- | such with open dc 
art'. Much of the latter part of his 

life was devoted to historical research. 
He was for many years connected 
with the press, as editor of the old 
Democrat, of the Far/arts' Monthly 
Visitor, and of the Granite Farmer. 

Col. Potter led a quiet, studious life, 
{or the most part, at his historic home 
at Hillsborough. lie completed his 
History of Manchester, one of the 
largest and most exhaustive histories 
of its class in the state. Many years 
were devoted to the preparation of the 
Military History of New Hampshire, 
which he published in 1S66. This 
work consists of two volumes, arid em- 
braces a detailed account of ail the 
wars in which our state was engaged, 
from the first settlement in 1623 to 
the close of the war with Great Britain 
in 181 2. Jt was his design to pub- 
lish a full and complete history of the 
state, bringing it down to the present 
time, and he left many unpublished 
manuscripts bearing upon our an- 

He was no literary recluse, however, 
but a man of warm social nature. The 
old house sustained its hospitable 
character under his regime. Col. Pot- 
ter loved the society of intelligent and 
worth}' men, and he welcomed all 

He continued 
his connection with the Amoskeae; 
Veterans, as their commanding officer. 
The battalion visited him at his home 
in '1865. and the event was one of 
much interest. He provided a grand 
entertainment for them in a large tent 
upon the grounds. This was another 
; red letter day for the old mansion. 
Many of the country people came in 
to the Veterans, and the picture 
I was like a scene out of Ivanhoe. The 
colonel presided in state ; around him 
were his veterans in continental array : 
here was the white tent ; there his 
large mansion house towering aloft ; 
and beyond, the hundreds of specta- 
tors in holiday attire. It was a great 
! day. Col. Potter died at Flint, Michi- 
| gan, whither he hud gone on business, 
I August 3, 1 868. aged sixty. He was 
1 buried with military honors at Man- 

The house still remains in the fam- 
ily, practically speaking, Mrs. McNiel 
Potter remained there two years after 
her husband's death, when, longing 
for change for body and mind, "she 
sold her old home. Gen. Samuel An- 
drews, a nephew of Governor Pierce's 
first wife, bought the homestead, 
whose property it is at the present 



What means this peerless splendor everywhere, 

This grand arraying' of! the earth and skies! 

This flush of morning ere the twilight dies. 
This nameless something in th* encircling air 
Which thrill? our inmost souls! our faces wear 

An untold gladness, and it glows 

As if the Spring in all its wealth arose 
To deck the brow of Autumn, queenly fair. 
O Autumn, stern and cold, and full of days! 

Ofttimes you take a lease anew of life. 
Ofttimes returns the memory of the Spring, 

The youthful Spring, thy triumph born of praise; 

And thus all Nature with deep beauty rife, 
Basks in the glory that October brings ! 




[taken from a charge to the grand jury in 1873.] 

The privihgium clericale, the privi- 
lege of clergy, or in common speech, 

the benefit of clergy, had its origin in 
the pious regard which Christian 
princes, in the early ages, paid to the 
Christian church in its infant state, and 
in the improper use which the Popish 
ecclesiastics soon made of that pious 
regard. Anciently, princes and states. 
converted to Christianity, granted to 
the clergy large privileges and exemp- 
tions, thai they might not be so much 
entangled in suits and worldly busi- 
ness, and for their encouragement in 
their religions offices and employments. 
Thus the persons of the clergymen 
were exempted from criminal process 
before the secular judge, in a lew par- 
ticular cases, and this was the origin of 
the term, privilege of clergy, privileg- 
ium clericals. 

The clergy, however, soon increased 
in numbers, in influence, wealth and 
power, and at length began to claim as 
their right, what they had at first re- 
ceived only by the special favor of 
states and princes, and not only did 
they claim this of right, but of divine 
right, jure divino. By their constitu- 
tions and canons, they thus obtained 
in many countries vast extensions of 
power, in the form or under the name of 
privileges and vast exemptions from 
their duties and liabilities to the state. 
so that finally, not only the clergy 
proper, the bishops, priests and dea- 
cons, but all who had any kind of sub- 
ordinate ministration to the church, 
were exempted civilly and criminally 
from the jurisdiction of the secular 
power, and made wholly subordinate 
immediately and only to the ecclesias- 
tical jurisdiction, which they claimed 
to be lodged first in the Pope by 
divine right and investiture from 
Christ himself, and through and from 

I the Pope shed abroad into all subordi- 
nate ecclesiastical jurisdictions, whether 

! ordinate or delegate. 

By this means they succeeded, in 

! many kingdoms, in setting up and 

I establishing, for many ages, a supreme 
ecclesiastical power by the side of the 
civil power or magistrate, so that there 


of the dark 

! was a double supreme power, the 
! ecclesiastical and the civil, in every 
, such kingdom. Such was the fact in 
I all countries subject to the 
\ through many centime: 

i a £ e >- 

The theory was not thai the clergy 
; or clerks were to go unpunished for 
I their offences, but that they were not 
! amenable to the civil authority, or the 
I civil magistrate, or liable to be pun- 
j ished in the same manner with the 
I laity, but that they were amenable to 
! their ecclesiastical superiors and rulers, 
; and to the ecclesiastical laws, and to 
i such punishments as those laws pre- 
| scribed. But this amounted to very 
] little, by way of punishment, for when 
J convicted before the bishop, they were 
; only degraded from their office or put 
■ to penance. But they were not often 
; convicted, so one-sided and unfair 
i were the trials before tire bishops, so 
I great privileges were granted to the 
J clergy, and so little justice to the 
i other side, the accused being allowed 

to testify and to produce his compur- 
I gaters and other witnesses, while little 
i testimony was allowed upon the other 
\ side, that a verdict was almost sure to 

"be returned in favor of the acquital of 
I the priest. - 

But although the ursupations of the 
: Pope were very great and obtained to 
; a great extent in England until the ter- 
; mination of his pretended supremacy 
! under King Henry the VHP yet this 
i claim of the exemption of the clergy 


/ / 

•• ..;;; secular jurisdiction could never 
uroughly be effected, though often 
ttterrrpted by the clergy, and therefore . 
: sough the ancient privilege of clergy 
was allowed in some capital cases, yet 
it was not universally allowed. In 
Kngland, benefit of clergy was never 
tllowed in a case of high treason 
against the king, but in case oi petit 
treason or felony, clergy was in com- 
mon law allowable, with one or two 
exceptions, while in indictments for 
offenses criminal, but not capital, and 
wherein they were in no danger of 
losing life or limb, then the benefit of 
clergy was not allowed, and therefore, 
in this class of cases, the clergy or 
clerks were not exempt from punish- 
ment. Only in cases of felonies which 
were then punished by death, and in 
all cases where life or limb was in dan- 
ger, the benefit of clergy was allowed, 
except in case of high treason and one 
or two other exceptional cases. 

Lord Chief Justice H'obart, of the 
Common Pieas of England, in the 
case of Searle v. Williams (Hob. Rep. 
2S8), which was decided inthe 1 7th year 
of James I (about the year 1620), dis- 
cusses this privilege of the clergy at 
great length, lie holds that though it 
had its origin in the canon law in favor 
of the Romish church, yet that it was 
admitted into the King's courts rather 
as a matter of convenience, that it 
serves as a refuge in favor of learning, 
"to save the life of an offender liter- 
ate ^ in certain cases." The law was 
greatly modified by the statute of 
18 Elizabeth, chap. 7. And the question 
may be very properly asked, why did 
not the English Parliament do away 
altogether with the benefit of clergy? 
They did away with its system of pur- 
gations and many of its most manifest 
corruptions. Why not abolish the whole 
system altogether? We can conceive 
of but one answer to this question, 
winch is that all crimes at that period 
were punished with indiscriminate 
severity. Death was the penalty for 
every offense known as a felony, and 
that included almost every crime 
known to the laws, so that in the time of 
Blackstone, something more than a hun- 

dred years ago. there were in England 
more than one hundred and sixty 
offenses punishable with death. Most 
of these were within the benefit of 

The courts very willingly allowed 
benefit of the clersrv, or any other ex- 



:h could claim for itself tl 


forms of the law, to avoid inflicting the 
punishment of death, in large numbers 
of cases, where it was seen that there 
was no real or just proportion or rela- 
tion between the offense anal the pun- 
ishment. By letting in the benefit of 
clergy the prisoner escaped the inflic- 
tion of the penalty of death in a vast 
number of cases in which no such 
severe penalty should ever have been 
attached to the commission of the 

This was evidently the view of 
Blackstone, whose commentaries upon 
the law of England were published in 
1 765-69. In speaking of the benefit of 
clergy at that time, he says, Book 4, 
chap. 28, that it then stood "very con- 
siderably different from its original in- 
stitution, the wisdom of the English 
legislature have in the course of a long 
and laborious process, extracted by a 
noble alchemy rich medicines out of 
poisonous ingredients, and converted 
by gradual mutations what was at first 
an unreasonable exemption of particu- 
lar popish ecclesiastics, into a merciful 
mitigation of the general law, with 
respect to capital punishment." 

In other words the benefit of clergy 
which originally meant the entire exemp- 
tion of the clergy from all corporal 
punishment for most capital offenses ; 
which meant that the clergy were not 
amenable to the civil law or to the civil 
magistrate for their crimes and 
offenses, while the lay men should suf- 
fer the utmost rigor of the law, which 
imposed the punishment of death for 
almost all offenses, except the most 
trivial, had, by the process he de- 
scribed, finally come to menu that 
every man, by claiming the benefit of 
clergy, should be spared from a capital 
execution, for a first offense, which 
should never have been made capital 
at all. In that view, perhaps, it might 



be properly considered a rich medi- 
cine, extracted by a noble alchemy out 
of the most poisonous ingredients. 
But at length this rich medicine be- 
came no longer necessary, when men 
had learned that the certainty of detec- 
tion > with mild punishment, is a far 
greater preventative to tiie commission 
of crime, than the severity of the pun- 
ishment ; and when the English nation 
had learned the same simple, truths 
which our fathers so fully comprehended 
when they introduced article rS into 
the bill of rights of our New Hampshire 
constitution, they could well afford to 
dispense altogether with this system of 
coming at justice by so great an indi- 

In England, after a time, the privi- 
lege of clergy was extended to all clerks, 
as well secular as religious, and then 
another step in the same direction was 
taken, and ail who could read were 
allowed the privilege, whether they 
were clergy or laity. But after the 
invention of printing, learning began 
to be more generally disseminated 
than before, and it was found that as 
many laymen as divines were admitted 
to the benefit of clergy, yet these lav- 
men were not put upon the same foot- 
ing as the clergy, as all laymen were 
not allowed to claim this privilege but 
once, and upon that occasion they 
were to be burnt with a hot iron in the 
brawn of the left thumb. 

This distinction between learned 
laymen and real clergy was abolished 
in the time of Henry VIII. Under 
Edward VI it was enacted that lords 
of Parliament and peers of the realm, 
having a place and voice in Parliament, 
may have the benefit of their peerage, 
which should be equivalent to that of 
the clergy, for the first offense, al- 
though they cannot read, and without 
being burnt in the hand, for all offenses 
then clergyable to commoners. And by 
statute of James I, it was provided 
that women convicted of simple lar- 
ceny, under the value of ten shillings, 
instead of being hung for it, might 
receive the of being burnt 
in the hand, whipped, put in the stocks 
or imprisoned not more than one year. 

And under William and Mary the same 
indulgence was allowed to all women 
guilty of any clergyable felony, that 
they might once claim the benefit of 
the statute (which was equivalent to 
the. benefit of clergy) even though they 
could not read. 

It was therefore said that in the time 
of Queen Annie, "AH women, all peers 
of Parliament, and peeresses, and all 
male commoners who could read, were 
discharged in all clergyable offenses or 
felonies, the males absolutely, if clerks 
in orders, and other commoners, both 
male and female, upon branding;, and 
peers and peeresses without branding, 
for the first offense, yet all liable, 
except peers and peeresses, if the 
judge saw fit, to imprisonment not 
exceeding a year ; and those men who 
could not read, if under the degree of 
peerage, were hanged." 

Various modifications of this privi- 
lege w e i e made by d i fi e re nt statu tes 
until it was finally abolished, except as 
to peers by the 7 and S George IV, 
chap. 28, and by the 4 and 5 Victoria, 

the peers 

cnap. 22. tne privilege of 
was absolutely abolished. 

In the earl\- times, the privilege of 
clergy was guarded with great jeal- 
ousy and was designed to be allowed 
only to those who had been admitted 
to holy orders. In the thirteenth cen- 
tury, the dress of the clergy and the 
cut of their hair seems to have been 
regulated by law or legal custom hav- 
ing the force of law. Such was also 
the case in regard to sergeants and 
baristers at law. At this time the law 
was held to be that none should be 
admitted to the benefit of clergy but 
such as had " habitum et tonsurani 
clericalcm" or the clerical dress and 
tonsure, and a story is told of one 
William de Bussey, in the year 1259. a 
time when all practicing lawyers were 
priests, and all the judges upon the 
bench were taken necessarily from the 
priesthood, for there was no learning, 
or next to none, outside the clergy. 
This Bussej was a practicing lawyer, 
or a serge an t at law, who was called to 
an account for his knavery and mal- 
practices, but who claimed his privt- 



le^e of clergy. Now it had not been 
r.ubH'cly known that he had taken 
orders, and so. that he might show 
himself entitled to this privilege, he 
attempted to untie Ins coif, or cap, 
which as a sergeant at law he was re- 
quired to wear, in order to show the 
clerical tonsure-. Bat the by stand e-r&j 
who understood well his rascalities, 
would not permit this, but seized him 
by the throat and dragged him to 

At a later day, where the benefit of 
clergy was allowed to all who could 
read, we are told that after conviction, 
the felon demanded his clergy, where- 
upon a book, commonly a psalter, was 
put into his hand, which he was re- 
quired to read, when the judge de- 
manded of the bishop's commissary, 
who was always present in such cases, 
" Legit tit clericus?" and upon the 
answer to this question, depended the 
convict's fate. If the answer was 
" Legit" the prisoner was burned in 
the hand and discharged. But if 
" Noniegit^ he suffered the punish- 
ment of death. 

In this country the common law of 
England was in force until modified 
by statute. But the benefit of clergy 
was abolished here much earlier than 
in England. In our act of February 
8,1791 (N. H. Laws, iSi5,p. 314-15)5 
it is provided " that the benefit of 
clergy shall not be used or allowed 
upon conviction of any crime for 
which, by any statute of this state, the 
punishment is or shall be declared to 
be death." And also that, " if any 
person shall be convicted of any 
crime at common law, wherein by law 
the benefit of clergy was heretofore 
allowed, and. for which, without 
such benefit of clergy, he must have 
been sentenced to suffer the pains of 
death ; such person shall not be en- 
titled to the benefit of clergy, but in- 
stead of the punishment of death, 
such person shall be punished by 
being set upon the gallows for the 
space of one hour, with a rope about 
his neck, and the other end thereof 
cast over the gallows ; by fine, not 
exceeding one thousand pounds ; by 


not exceed me 


j stripes ; or suffer one or more of these 

j punishments, according to the aggrava- 

| tion of the offence." 

In our statute of 1829, there were 
similar provisions, except that the sit- 

j ting on the gallows, and the whipping 
were omitted. 

In our law ol r 79 1 , the benefit of 

j clergy is spoken of as having been 
heretofore allowed in this state. How 
extensively this was the fact we are 
unable to say, some have doubted 
whether any case of the kind could be 
found. But that was a mistake. One 
case has been found by George A. 
Ramsdell, Esq., clerk of the court for 
Hillsborough County, in which the 
benefit of clergy was allowed, ; and at 
my request, he has very kindly fur- 
nished me with a copy of the record 
in that case, which may be a matter of 
interest to many, and which I will add 
entire. It will be observed that this 
was in 1773, one hundred years ago, 
and three years before the declaration 
of American independence. New 
Hampshire was, of course, then a 
province, of Great Britain, and was 
under the jurisdiction of King George 
the III. 

Anno rcgni Regis Georgii tertii de ti- 
nt o teriio. 



At his Majesty's Superior Court of 
Judicature held at Amherst in and for 
the County of Hillsborough on the 
second Tuesday in September in the 
thirteenth year of his Majesty's reign 
Annoque Domini 1773, 


The Honorable Theod. Atkinson Esq. 
Chief Justice. 

The f-WESHBCH.WEARE ) ,. ' 

llorrbie ) Leverett Hubbard r justices 
(William Parker ) 

The Jurors for our Lord the King 
upon their oaths do present that Israel 
Wilkins late of Hollis in said County 



of Hillsborough, Yeoman, not having 
the fear of God before his Eyes but 
being moved and seduced by the in- 
stigation of the. Devil on the twenty- 
first das' o[ November A. D. 1772 in 
the thirteenth Year of the reign of our 
said Lord the King at Kollis aforesaid 
in the County aforesaid with force and 
anus feloniously and of his Malice 
beforethought did make an Assault 
upon the Body of one Israel Wilkins 
Senior of Hollis aforesaid in the peace 
of God and the said Lord the King 
then and there being and him the I 
said Israel Wilkins Senior the said 
Israel first above named with a certain 
billet of Wood of the value of three 
pence did voluntarily, feloniously and 
of his Malice beforethought smite and 
strike in and upon Ids left Temple 
thereby giving him a mortal Wound of 
the length of three inches and of the 
debth of one inch of which same 
Wound the said Israel Wilkins Senior 
thereafterwards languished for the 
space of three days thence next fol- 
lowing and at the expiration of said 
three days, the said Israel Wilkins 
Senior died of the said mortal. Wound 
at Hoiks aforesaid. And so the ju- 
rors aforesaid upon their Oaths say 
that the afores d Israel Wilkins first be- 
fore named him the aforesaid Israel 


Senior in manner and form 

aforesaid at Hollis aforesaid feloniously 
and of his Malice beforethought did 
kill and murder against the peace of 
our said Lord the King his Crown and 

Israel Wilkins appearing and being 
arraigned at the Bar pleaded not guilty 
and put himself upon the County for 
trial upon which a Jury being duly 
sworn well and truly to try and true 
deliverance make between our Sover- 
eign Lord the King and the Prisoner 
at the Bar. The King's Attorney and 
Counsel for the Prisoner being heard 
on the evidence, the Case was com- 
mitted to the Jury who after having 
withdrawn for trial return unto Court 
and say upon their Oaths that the 
Prisoner at the Par is guilty of Man- 
slaughter only. It is therefore con- 
sidered that the said Israel Wilkins 

the Prisoner is guilty of Manslaughter 

It being demanded of the said 
Israel Wilkins the Prisoner why Sen- 
tence of Death should not be passed 
upon hum. The said Israel Wilkins 
prayed die benefit of Clergy which 
was granted. Whereupon the Pris- 
oner, the said Israel Wilkins was burn- 
ed with a hot Iron in the form of the 
letter T on the brawny part of the 
Thumb of his left hand, and it is fur- 
ther considered that the said Israel 
Wilkins forfeit all his Goods and Chat- 
tels to the King." 

It appears that this privilege was 
abolished in this country nearly forty 
years before it was in England, and 
about the time of the adoption of our 
amended constitution Ol 1792. 

1 have thus, gentlemen of the 
Grand Jury, called your attention to a 
subject altogether of the past, but one 
which invited and received the atten- 
tion of the best mmcls upon the Eng- 
lish bench, or at the English bar, dur- 
ing many centuries, a subject which 
formed an important element and feat- 
ure of the English system of criminal 
jurisprudence for more than seven 
hundred years. Lord Hale, in his 
" Pleas of the Crown." devotes seven 
chapters to this subject, and premises 
by saying, (; I must needs say that this 
is one of the most involved and trou- 
blesome titles of the law." 

Our forefathers simplified this mat- 
ter and avoided all these difficulties, 
by holding ail men subject to the state 
alone ; that there should be no privi- 
leged classes, but that clergy and lay- 
men, high and low, rich and poor, 
learned and ignorant, should all stand 
equal before the law; that punishments 
should be apportioned in their severity 
to the enormity of the offence, so 
that not only the judges, but the 
masses of the people could see that jus- 
tice and humanity were properly blend- 
ed in the making and the execution of 
the laws, and so that courts and juries 
should have no excuse for seeking in 


8 1 

■ way to evade the due execution of 

execution of the will o( the people 

law, and where every good citizen 

as expressed in the statutes and ordi- 

'■'■ fee) thai his own highest tuterest 

i aces oi the tate. 

to be best promoted by a faithful 



" Listen, I have weaknesses, but not 
passions. Wine, gambling, and les 
belles, as the French say. have cost me 

ridiculous sum of money, and in cer- 
tain respects I have only been an over- 
grown child ; but a real passion, a 
tyranical passion, capable of making a 
great man or a great criminal of me, 
3 —, ve ne ver known. Some one of 
ray family, en the contrary, lias had it, 
and many things, which 1 have seen in 
my younger days without thinking 

much about it Ah ! now. you are 

a discreet man, are you not? If you 
'■-'ere not, Frances would not rely 
on you as she does, and besides, you 
are one of the family, and it is better 
that you should be warned." There- 
upon he swallowed the last gla^s of 
wine. " Know, then, that among the 
various professions I followed in Ger- 
many, I had the honor to be croupier 
in a gambling-house. There, without, 
being known by him, I have seen my 
unfortunate father play with a frenzy 
ot which you have no idea, and you 
may well believe that, in srnte of all 
my wrongs, it is in this way that he has 
eaten up his own fortune as well as 
that of Frances. I would have thrown 
myself at his feet, to beg him not to 
precipitate himself into this abyss. 1 
was chained by my position, but I 
watched him secretly, and learned with 
nay that he had borrowed money 
°* a Dutch banker, that he had signed 
obligations without letting \'\ m< es 
know it. and, you see. for fear of hav- 

i fuge m the far 
j anything whicl 
ture. In sho; 
meeting Mr. 
rector, who pr 
with his eques 
that I again 
under the fla 

ing to confess his fault, he was obliged 
to accuse me \o her." 

;i But this would be abominable." 
"What would you have? Passion 
does not reason. I was far off. My 
name was already dishonored.. If I 
could only clear myself in Frances's 
eyes! To finish my history, I was 
not any more successful in the new 
world than in Europe. I made a ship- 
wreck. I lost all I had. I took re- 
West, without meeting 
! could secure me a fu- 
t, I was fortunate in 
Stonehorse, circus di- 
sposed to visit Europe 
nan troupe. It is thus 
tread my country's soil, 
g of the Union. Once 
near here, I was seized with an irresist- 
able desire to see Werve again. That 
has not succeeded any too well, as you 
see. Bah 1 Cost what it may, I will 
keep nay word, which I have given to 
Frances. And now good night, I am 
tired to death ! " 

He stretched himself out on the 
sofa, without waiting for the least an- 
swer from me, and very soon 1 could 
not doubt that my strange room-mate 
was sleeping soundly. I had nothing 
better to do than to follow his exam- 
ple. When I opened my eyes in the 
morning, he had disappeared, but he 
had left las pocket-book on the table. 

On reflection, I concluded that he 
had guessed correctly, and that his 
father had not recoiled from tine base 



expedient ol defaming his own son be- 
fore his grand-daughter, of whose re- 
monstrances he was afraid. How fore- 
seeing aunt Sophia had been in not 
wishing her fortune to be swallowed up 
without profit to any one in this insa- 
tiable chasm. 

You can understand, Willem, how J. 
was obliged to make an effort to con- 
gratulate my great-uncle on his birth- 


This birthday fell on a Sunday. 
We went to the village church. The 

minister was old, monotonous and 
tiresome. A good half of the audi- 
en< e was asleep. Frances turned over 
the leaves of her Bible to conceal her 
impatience ; the bearers who were not 
asleep looked at us, at her and me, 
more than they listened to the minis- 
ter, arid I seemed to fancy that their 
commentaries, silent or whispered, 
were not favorable to us. The Gen- 
eral alone hxed his open eyes on the 
orator, but without any one being 
able to imagine whether his thoughts 
were not elsewhere. 

On our return, the festival began. 
The school- master came with his pu- 
pils, who recited some verses in which 
the Baron was glorified as the patron 
and protector of the school, for which 
he did not care in the least. It seem- 
ed to me that these verses must have 
served for several generations of pro- 
prietors of Werve. Then came the 
farmers, who always called the General 
" their lord ; " after them some of the 
villagers. Everybody was treated with 
chocolate and cake. The burgo- 
master presented' himself in his turn; 
he was a half peasant, who paid much 
more attention to my person than to 
the Baron's ; evidendy he suspected 
some mystery in me winch excited his 
curiosity. My great-uncle, to whom I 
made my excuses because, being in- 
formed too late, I had nothing to offer 
to him, but adding that I hoped some 
day to atone for it, whispered in my 
ear " I only ask one thing of yon, and 
that is for you to be reconciled with 

your uncle, the minister." 
nately there was no need of my reply- 
ing, Frances was fascinating in : 

animated and cordial mariner with 

which she 
i One could 

received all the vi it >i 
see thai she knew h< >\v to 
agreeable when she had nothing to f< 
from the judgment, mm] especially from 
the perfidy of those who came tost i 

The dinner was very fine. '\ ,. ■ 
Captain had put on his full unif 
and the General also, and 1 had alsc 
taken pains with my toilette. Fram e> 
was, as ever, simply dressed, without 
any thought for the fashion of the day, 
but with something original and ele- 
gant, which wonderfully enhanced her 
beauty. I remarked the richness and 
weight of her silver; it was marked 
with the family arms. Evidently 
Frances and the Captain had j fa 
forces to redeem it from the hands of 
the pawn-broker. She had take-"! he! 
place between the minister ami my- 
self; the notary, the postmaster, s 
rich peasants, members of the con- 
sistory or of the municipal council 
were also at the dinner. Rolfe, seated 
among them, loosened their tor 
by making them appreciate the exquis- 
ite qualities of the wine. The mmistei 
was more amusing at the table than m 
the pulpit; and the conversation did 
not languish. Fritz, assisted on this 
occasion by the farmer's son, had put 
on a livery which much resembled 
metamorphosed officer's coal. IF 
was more attentive, more exact thn i 
ever in his service ; you might even 
suspect that he had some hidden de 
sign, so serious and solemn was 
In spite of myself, I t-houghl of th< 
total ruin of this house, formerly so 
wealthy, and of the unfortunate - - 
banished from the paternal table. ^ A> 
to the General, I had never seen him 
in such good spirits. This well served 
table, these fine dishes, these wii 
which he tasted as a connoisseur. «i ■ 
fled his epieurian tastes. C 
served in the garden; we m- 
" May wine,"* which Rolfe had 
concocted, and as all these c 

' White wine mix ;d w ich sugar a»* J • 

• . . 



ople go to bed early, the evening 

.-. not far advanced when a large 

'./ made its appearance to carry 

i k to the village the enchanted 

I earnestly hoped to meet Frances 

id to propose a walk in die garden. 
j had difficulty in finding her. She 

• i run over to the farmer's house to 
carry some delicacies to his old mother. 
Y\ hen she came back, her first care 
was to ask where her grand -father was. 
" 1 [e must not he alone a moment to- 
day," she said, " I have been uneasy 
aft' day." 

•• Is it on account of Rudolf? " 

" 1 am afraid of some rash act on 
his part. You are at at least sure that 
lit is gone ? " 

'•' Certain!}', and I was still asleep. 
But he left his pocket-book on the 
table. I will carry it to him to- 

" No, do nothing. I am sure that he 
will return. That is my night-mare — 
rather tell me how did you like my 

"You are a charming mistress of 
the house, Frances. How I should 
like to see you at the head of a well 
appointed house ! " 

"And where one would not be 
obliged to take the silver out of pledge, 
when one expects guests," she said, 
with some bitterness. 

" Dear cousin, did that cost you 
very dearly?" said I, compassion- 

" It chiefly humiliates me ; but I 
owed this satisfaction to my old grand- 
hither, whose weaknesses I sometimes 
severely reproach. Rolfe, who in 
spite of all his faults is the best soul 
in the world, went to the city, and we 
rubbed up the silver together — " 

"And me, Frances, to whom you 
owe nothing, vou have so agreeably sur- 

" Don't speak of that trifle. I only 
wished to mark the day when you be- 
came my friend." 

"Oh! Yes, your friend for life," 
said I, tenderly putting my arm. around 
"»er ; this word, had made me bold — 
ev *enrash: "thank vou for this kind 

word. Frances, but that is not enough 
for me ; grant me the favor of being 
something more for you than a friend, 
allow me " 

" More than a friend,?" she exclaim- 
ed, plainly agitated, " T beg you, Leo- 
pold, do not go beyond what we can 
be to each other, do not spoil this 
relation which is as dear to me as to 
you, by demanding the impossible, and 
promise me seriously. Leopold, that 
you will not use such language to me 
any more." 

This was very much like a formal 
refusal, and still there was some emo- 
tion in her voice, which was to a cer- 
tain degree encouraging. " And why 
would this be impossible, Frances?" 
1 rejoined, appealing to all my cour- 

This time I received no answer, she 
uttered a cry, darted towards the arbor, 
and I followed her on the run. A 
frightful spectacle awaited us. 

Rudolf, the unfortunate Rudolf, was 
on his knees before his father and 
kissing his hand. The latter remained 
motionless on the seat. Suddenly 
Rudolf uttered a cry of terror and 

"' I warned you," said. Frances, "you 
have killed your father." 

"No, Frances, no, he has tainted, 
but I found him in thus condition ! I 
swear to you by all that is dear to me 
that I found him thus ! " 

The fact is that the General was as 
stiff and immovable as a corpse. The 
trellis of the arbor had alone prevented 
his falling to the ground. His coun- 
tenance had a bluish palor, his eves 
were set and open, his features con- 
tracted. Frances rubbed his temples 
with the contents of her flask. The 
friction reanimated him a little ; but 
there was need of prompt assistance. 

" Tell me where the village physi- 
cian lives and I will fly for him," cried 
Rudolf in great agitation. 

" It had better be Fritz," declared 
Frances in a determined tone. 

I ran for the old servant, to whom I 
told the condition of affairs in a few 

"The General has a shock!" he 

8 a 


exclaimed, with tears in his voice, 
" and it is my fault." 
" How so?" 

"I ought not to have allowed — but 
I — i could not nevertheless drive away 
the son of the house." 

< •' N a 1 1 1 r al 1 y , but i i o ,v hold yo u r 
tongue :a\;l hurry-. " And the old sol- 
dier started with the speed of a young 

When T returned towards the arbor, 
the Genera! was still in die same con- 
dition. Rudolf, leaning against a tree, 
'nging his hands, 
it does no good 
" rather help m 
room ; Leopol 

Frances said 

to carry ham 

will help us 

was \vi 

" Tl 
to him 

to his 

" No need of him, it is my lather, 
and I have the right." At the same 
time, he lifted the old man with pre- 
caution, but also with a steadiness in 
his movements, which showed that the 
burden seemed light to him. He did 
not wish me to aid him even in as- 
cending the stairs. In a moment the 
Baron was laid upon, his bed, his eyes 
still set and seeing nothing. ''Thank 
God, we are here." said Rudolf, fall- 
ing on a chair, ;; I have done many 
harder things than that, but none that 
has made my heart beat so. Can I 
stay till he comes to himself?" he 
asked of Frances in a beseeching 

" I see that you cannot go in such a 
moment," she replied, " but Rolfe 
must be warned, and if he sees 
you " 

" Bah ! if he makes the least disturb- 
ance, I will simply wring his neck like 
a chicken." 

I found it simpler and more pru- 
dent to go myself and tell the Cap- 
tain what had happened, and to dis- 
pose him to indulgence. He was 
still plunged in his after-dinner nap. 
I believed that he also would have an 
attack, when I told him what had hap- 
pened. His anger, on learning the 
return of Rudolf, took him away from 
his anxiety in regard to the General. 
1 tried to make him understand that 
the accident was to be attributed to a 
chill after a hearty meal ; but he 

! Rudolf was die caase of the misfor- 
| tune, and maintained that Ins military 
J duty would oblige him to cause the 
! deserter to be immediately arrested. 
| I had great trouble in diverting him 
j from this purpose. 1 finally succe de i 
| in inculcating the idea that just now 
j the duty of humanity overruled all 
j others, and that a son ought not to be 
j torn away from the bedside of a sick, 
perhaps dying father ; that Frances 
herself allowed him to remain, and 
that we had nothing else to do than 
to cover with a respectful veil an un- 
happy family secret. Roife's natural 
goodness finally conquered, and we 
the General's 

returned together to 

The doctor had just arrived. He 
considered the condition dangerous 
and thought that the patient must be 
bled. Fritz and Rolfe undressed the 
sick mam I took Frances into the 
room where Rudolf was concealed. 
The door between was open and we 
heard the General, when he regained 
his consciousness, call Frances, though 
speaking with difficulty, and address 
to her in a frightened tone some ques- 
tions which the doctor attributed to 
delirium, but which proved to us that 
he had seen and recognized R'ud )lf, 
even though he took care not to pro- 
nounce his name. 

" The patient must have the most 
complete rest." said the physician in 
leaving, * ; otherwise I am afraid of a 
brain fever." 

•'' Would you like to see the person 

of whom you spoke just n< 

in a low voice to the General, when we 
were alone. 

;; No ! I know that he is here ; he 
must go away, must leave me in peace, 
must never reappear before my eves — 
or else — I shall curse him." 

We heard a suppressed sigh in the 
adjoining room. Rudolf had under- 

Rolfe and France; were to pass the 
night by the sick mam 1 took Ru- 
d If, who could now oniy walk in a 
tottering manner, into m) room. He 
fell on the sola, crying like a child. 



" It is all over," said he : " aftei all, 
i could not hope for anything else, 
and 1 inve deserved it." 

" Frances was right then ; you 
i tight not to have broken your word." 

"It did not depend on me to I 
it. Fritz surprised me this morning, 
just as 1 was scaling the garden w '/;. 
and i was obliged to let him recognize 
me so as not to be taken for a robber. 
Thereupon he offered to conceal me 
till night in an unoccupied room on 
the ground floor. From there, with- 
out being discovered, I could see my 
father walking in the garden. When 
his guests were gone, i saw him go 
towards the arbor, sit down, and i 
thought he fell asleep. Then I wished 
to come out of my place of conceal- 
ment, and come near him for a mo- 
ment. It seems that he saw me and 
recognized me. But I have had 
enough of it. and I leave now for 
good. May God bless him ! May 
God strengthen dear Frances ! " 

Nevertheless, I kept him for the 
night, which I passed sitting up with 
him. From time to. time. 1 went for 
news. Towards morning, I was able 
to tell him that his father had had a 
good night, and that lie had slept well. 
He could now go away with more 
security. I went with him a short dis- 
tance and promised to write him the 
news, to the address of Richard Smith- 

The General escaped this time, but 
his recovery was slow. He remained 
weak, and his arms and legs partially 
paralyzed. I could remain tor a while 
by the side of Frances, whom I as- 
sisted as well as I could, and to whom 
I rendered many little services. One 
of us two was obliged to be always 
by the side of the convalescent, for 
Rolfe hail more good intention.-: than 
skill as a nurse. He would easily have 
brought on a relapse by the singular 
advice which he gave to the General. 
Frances was grateful that I remained. 
She did not understand how 1 could 
reconcile this prolonged stay with rny 
occupation. She did not know that 
my most pressing, my dearest oc< upa- 
tion was to remain near her and to 

continue to gain more of her affec- 
tion. Sublime in her devotion to her 
grandfather, she had forgotten all die 
wrong he had done her, and reproach- 
ed herself for having caused him j iin, 
by freedom of speech. Nevertheless, 
just as the old man's health was rees- 
tablished^ she was obliged to persuade 
herself anew that some firmness was 
absolutely necessary. In a lucid mo- 
ment, he had charged me to receive 
and open his letters. I thus acquired 
the certain knowledge that he was 
engaged in dangerous speculations, 
and that without the knowledge of 
Frances he was still incurring debts. 
When I believed that he was well 
enough to endure a conversation on 
the subject, I forced myself to point 
out to him the fatal consequences that 
his persistence in this perilous game 
would have for himself, and especially 
for Frances. Had his illness made 
him wiser? The tact is that he prom- 
ised me to renounce them forever, and 
he engaged me to sell Werve on the 
most advantageous conditions. It was 
time. Overberg readily consented to 
wait longer ; but Van lieck, the testa- 
mentary executor, the man of strict 
law, lost patience. And I was not yet 
sure of Frances. You ma}- think that 
I was very timid, if not a coward. 
What shall I say to you, my friend? 
My education, my retired life, had, in 
fact, made me very timid with women. 
I believe that, without boasting. I can 
affirm that I have some courage, but it 
is only when I have to deal with men. 
I was afraid, yes, I was afraid of Fran- 
ces" headstrong determination not to 
marry, esen when I might- have made 
some impression on her heart. I con- 
tinually recalled those terrible words in 
the garden : " You must never again 
use such language to me." I trem- 
bled at the idea that a new attempt 
would bring to her lips an absolute and 
defiant no. 

The old General had guessed my 
intention ; 1 was sure of it. He al- 
ways insisted that I should reconcile 
myself with my uncle, the minister, 
and that I should prepare Frances for 
tie;- sale of the castle. I assured him 



that on ibis last point Fi mces would 
be reasonable, and, fortified with his 

written authority, I went to 7. to 

ha\e an interview with Oyerberg. Van 
Beek was decidedly unmanageal le ; 
he showered on Overberg whole bun- 
dles of stamped paper which the Gen- 
era! was to pay. The situation was 
very desperate. I charged Overberg 
to write to Van Beck that the sale of 
Werve would take place soon, and 
according to all appearance, at the 
same time as my marriage to Frances, 
and I, thinking that the lawyers won Id 
leave us a respite of a few days, re- 
turned to the castle, carrying some 
trifles for the General and the Captain, 
as well as some jewelry for Frances, 
since the time was not yet come for me 
to offer her diamonds as my betroth.;, 1 .. 

To my great surprise, J found Fran- 
ces more sad and anxious than when 
I left her. She received, my gift with 
an indifference which disconcerted me. 
She retired early and I did the same, 
not wishing to be left alone with Rolfe. 
All night I lost myself in my conjec- 
tures as to the meaning of this change 
of manner ; I swore to myself anew 
that the following day should put an 
end to my indecision. At breakfast, 
Frances, in a more sombre humor 
than the evening before, told us that 
she had received a letter from Dr. 
D at Utrecht, who gave her very- 
good accounts of the sick person in 
whom she was interested. I wanted 
to propose a good walk in the woods 
to my cousin ; but I had hardly come 
down from my room, where I had 
gone to pay a little attention to my 
toilette (excuse me, my dear friend, 
nothing must be neglected in impor- 
tant moments), \v]\cn I discovered 
Frances in her riding habit, and this 
time with a pretty hat with a blue veil, 
going towards her beautiful horse, 
Tancred, led up saddled by a son oi 
the farmer. 

''Sacrifice your ride for me this 
time," I said to her, not without some 
impatience, which could not escape 
her notice. 

She looked at. me astonished, play- 
ing with her riding- whip. 

•■ You can go to ride an hour later," 
said 1. still persisting. 

" My ride is to be a long one, and I 
must be back to dinner." 

" Then put it off till to-morrow. It 
is the first time that we could have a 
good walk together since your grand- 
father's illness. Don't refuse me this 

" You always like to disarrange my 
plans, Leopold." 

"I have serious reasons to-day, Fran- 
ces ; believe me, to- morrow it will be 
too late." 

" Really? you are threatening," said 
she, trying to smile. " Let it be as 
you wish," and she threw aside her 
riding-whip in a pet, — "but wait till I 
put on another dress : one cannot 
walk iii a riding-habit." 

Tancred was then sent back, and 
in a moment my cousin reappeared 
without having made the least sacri- 
fice to feminine coquetry. 

" And where are we going, cousin?" 

" Into the woods, I suppose " 

■"' You are right ; the weather is 
superb : let us go towards the circle." 

I was determined to speak ; but 
how to lead to the burning wish? She 
seemed to take delight in speaking of 
a thousand other things. At length, I 
was obliged to interrupt her, and tell 
her that I must finally return to the 

" 1 have been expecting that, Leo- 

" And — that makes you — a little 
sorry? " 

" I ought to answer yon no to give 
your foolish question a worthy an- 

" But I — will come again, \[ you 
think it good." 

*• No, Leopold, I do not think it 
good. It would have been better for 
you to have gone the day when I ad- 
vised you to first." 

" Have I then been a burden to 
you, Frances? " 

" You know very well that you have 
not. You know very well that I am 
under all sorts of obligations to you, 
that you have been good, sincere, 
obliging to me. Finally you have 


iled iii'-', and I shall have great trou- 

• in reaccustoming myself to soli- 
' \G e, 

• Nevertheless, if I return — and if 1 
utld return— with — with a wedding 

, resent?" 

" In Heaven's name, for whom?" 

•• ['or whom then, if not ibr my 
beloved cousin, Frances Mordaunt." 

•• That is a poor juke, sir ; you know 
very well that your cousin, Frances 
Mordaunt, will never marry." 

" Let us sec, Frances. At the time 
of our first meeting on the heath, 
when you threw your ideas on this 
point at my head, 1 had no reason to 
tern you from it ; but you very well 
know that it is not so to-day. You 
recall with what frankness I indicated 
to you what seemed to me to disfigure 
your noble and beautiful character. 
Do you believe that I should have 
allowed myself such liberties if from 
that moment I had not conceived the 
hope that you would not always refuse 
to become — my wife." 

The word, the great word was out. 

" Weft, Leopold," she said to me 
sighing, "you force me to repeat my 
last warning. . It cannot be, it must 
not be." 

"And why, Frances? Have I de- 
ceived myself in thinking that I am 
not; wholly indifferent to you?" 

She turned aside her head, but I 
surprised something like a concealed 

" Perhaps you are no longer free? " 
I asked, gently taking her hand and 
placing myself before her to see her 

<: Certainly, I am free," she replied 
with some bitterness, " I have done all 
that was needed for that ; but 1 am 
going to remain independent ; it must 
be so." 

"Ah ! I understand, Frances," I 
cried out, carried away by an absurd 

jealousy, "you are still waiting for Ford 

" I? " she replied, passionately, " I 
wait for Lord William, who never loved 
me, who made me do a thousand fool- 
ish tilings, who broke my heart, and 
over sixty ! Ah ! Leopold, 

v, no no\ 

don't humiliate me by being jealous of 
Ford William. Should I. have told 
you my story of him if I had still 
loved him ? " 

" Can it be, then, that Major Frank 
wishes to remain in his wild independ- 
ence? " 

" Do not : torment me so, Leopold. 
You can break my heart, but not come 
to the end of my resistance." 

" I shall soon discover the mysteri- 
ous power which enchains you," I 
cried, full of anger and sorrow. 

' ; Nevertheless, you know, Leopold, 
the duties I have to fulfil. Why should 
you throw yourself with me into the 
abyss of misfortune and misery — in 
which I am sunk — from which I shall 
never emerge in thus life." 

" I wish to know them, your miser- 
ies, my beloved Frances. I wish to 
share them ; together we will conquer 
them-— -be sure of that, mv adored." 

Truly, Willem, 


passion carnea me 
away. I threw my arm around her, I 
pressed her to my heart. She let me 
do it unresistingly, or rather, as if ex- 
hausted by her long . struggle, with 
closed eyes and deeply blushing- 
cheeks she let her charming head, 
crowned with golden locks, rest on my 
shoulder. J was in Heaven. 

Suddenly a croaking interrupted the 
profound silence of the woods. '-'Don't 
trouble yourselves. Ah ! that is it — 
Miss has a lover, it is not strange that 
she forgets the little one." That is 
what we heard uttered near us by a 
cracked voice, speaking the abomina- 
ble patois of the country. 

[to be continued.] 




Elijah Parker, Esq., for many 
years a welt -known lawyer of Kecne, 
was •■bora- in New Ipswich, in August', 
1776. His lather. Capt. Stephen 
Parker, was a man of sterling worth, 
and his mother, Mary (Morse) Parker, 
was a superior Christian woman. The 
father, at the outbreak of the Revolu- 
ti ry war, was a well-to-do tanner, 
but sold his tannery, raised and took 
command of a company in the patriot 
army. The payment received lor the 
tannery was in the Continental paper 
money, whose depreciation left Capt. 
Parker and his family poor. The 
family was large and the sons were all 
brought up to the work of a farm. 
Elijah, having injured himself by over- 
exertion, felt obliged to give up farm- 
ing. By his own efforts he succeeded 
in securing a college education, gradu- 
ating at Dartmouth in 1806. He sub- 

the Hon. 

sequent iv rea 

Wit I 

George B. Upham of Clare mont, and 

commenced the practice of law in 
K 1 1 e, where he spe \i the half cen- 
tury of his profession il life. He was 
3 i • e ful and influent! •! citizen, de j I . 
interested in the cause of education 
one of the earliest champions of the 
temperance movement, first president 
of the Cheshire County Anti-Slavery 
Society, and always on the side of all 
fliat lie thought would be of benefit to 
others, He died in August, [858, at 
the age of eighty-two. His wife, 
daughter of the Rev. Aaron Hall of 
Keene, and a most rare woman in her 
superior mental endowments and moral 
worth, survived him eighteen years, 
reaching die age of ninety-three. He 
left five children, David Hall, since 
deceased; Mary Morse, widow. of the 
late }ndg;e Joel Parker ; Henry Elijah, 
professor at Dartmouth ; Horatio 
George, a. lawyer in Boston, and 
(diaries Edward', an architect, also in 


O ancient stump ! 

Ungainly lump ! 

Stale, smokeless, fire-less weed 

A -by. 

Gone hopelessly to seed ! 

Oli! gentle blaze, 

Oh ! ! ragr.'int haze. 

Jo\ of the evening hour, 


Soothing \\ li h magie power. 

Oh! dainty roll, 

< )b ! hidden soul, 

Of comfort and repose; 


Here once thine incense 

"X'o more thy fire 
( 'an joys inspire, 
No more its tit ful trleam, 


A living friend shall seem. 

But, done to death. 
Thy oderous breath 
And glowing beauties cease; 
Thy fun 

1- done. 
Thv soul has found relive! 


T 1 1 E 



Vol. IV 

DECEMBER, 1880. 

Uo. 3. 



It is well to collect the incidents and 
experiences in the lives of men who 
have come up from small beginnings 
to the achievement of notable suc- 
cesses in the business, professions and 
statesmanship of the country, mainly 
through their own effort and persever- 
ance. Our country is largely indebted 
to its self- made men for its splendid | 
prosperity, and under its generous in- 
stitutions the humblest youth of to- 
day has no insuperable obstacles to 
overcome in placing himself, in the 
future, among the leaders of Other 
men, politically and socially. 

It is m this regard that we have 
gathered the material for the following 
sketch of one of New Hampshire's 
most enterprising and valuable citizens, 
Hon. Dexter Richards, of Newport. 

Preliminary to a more individual 
sketch, we propose to present some 
data in regard to the Richards family, 
showing their descent from English an- 
cestors, and tire genealogy of that j 
particular branch of the family which 
came to America about the year 1630- 
52, from which Mr. Richards has de- 

The name "Richard" first occurs 
in England as the name of the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, in the reign of 
Henry II, 1154-89. It is undoubted- 
; ; continental in its origin, as that high 
ecclesiastic, and second man in the 
kingdom, in accordance with the pol- 


icy of the Popes of that period, must 
have been appointed from a foreign 
country, as Germany, France or Italy, 
from whence Ire brought the name. 
At first it was only a christian name, 
but afterwards, as it became more 
widely extended, and surnames were 
assumed, the terminal "s" was added, 
as in many ether christian names, and 
it became hereditary. 

The books of heraldry give no less 
than seventeen distinct coats of arms of 
the name of Richards. The late Lord 
Chief Baron of the Exchequer, often 
president of the House of Lords, Sir 
Richard Richards, inherited a manor, 
of which his ancestors, about the year 
1550, were spoken of as the "ancient 
possessors." This manor was un- 
doubtedly a part of the lordship of 
Dinwiddick in North Wales, and still 
continues in possession of the family. 
Of any connection between the inher- 
itors of this estate, and those of the 
name of Richards who emigrated to 
this country, we have no positive evi- 
dence beyond the use of the names, 
"Edward " and "Richard," and their 
coming from a part of England where 
an offshoot of the Welsh stock had 
previously taken root. Oi their de- 
scent from a Knight there is no doubt. 
They claimed the privilege of bearing 
tire identical arms of the Richards, of 
E.Bagborough in the county of Somer- 
set. England. 



These arms are depicted on the 
tablet of Hon. James Richards, a1 
Hartford, Conn., who died in 1680, 
and may also be seen in an ancient man- 
uscript in the library of the New Eng- 
land Elistorical and Genealogical Soci- 
ety, halved with the arms of Gov. John 
Winihrop, whose daughter Judge John 
Richards, of Boston, married in 1692. 

It is not our purpose to dwell upon 
the renown of this old English family 
any farther than is necessary to estab- 
lish the source from whence the name 
in this country derives its origin, and 
to claim that the founders of New 
England, not only the Richards, but 
many other of the early families, were 
of the strong mental characteristics 
and best blood of the elder land. 

The members of the Richards fam- 
ily in America have wrought out for 
themselves name and fame, and so 
far as aristocratic titles and decora- 

tions are concerned the st< 


the American 

bard has embodied 
idea when he says : 

"The rank is but the guineas stamp, 
A man 's a man for a' that." 

From the twelve emigrants of the 
name of Richards that originally came 
to this country at different times, in 
the years from 1630 to T72S, have 
come, as may be seen by the records 
of the New England Historical and 
Genealogical Society, in Boston, a great 
number of descendants, who, from the 
beginning, have borne a royal part in 
the toils, and trials, and hardships of our 
early time, and who are to-day rep- 
resented in the learned professions, the 
arts, commerce and manufactures, and 
general business of this great country. 

The sixth of these immigrants, in 
point of time, was Edward Richards, 
a passenger in the ship Lion, from 
London, who landed in Boston, Sept. 
16, 1632, His brother, Nathaniel, was 
also a passenger. Nathaniel afterward 
joined the party of Rev. Mr. Hooker — 
a memorable expedition — and with it 
traversed the then howling wilderness 
to the valley of the Connecticut, and 
was among the founders o{ Hartford. 

Edward Richards was. for a time. 
resident at Cambridge, Mass., where 

he married, Sept. 10, 163S. Susan 
Hunting. He was afterward one of 
the sixty-two original proprietors of the 
town of Dedham, near Boston, where 
he lived and died in 16S4. and where 
many of his descendants are to be 
found at this time. We follow the de- 
scent of the line from Edward (1), 
through John (2), John (3), John (4), 
Abiathar (5), to Sylvanus in the sixth 
generation, who, about the beginning 
of this century, moved, with his family, 
to Newport, N. H., where he settled 
on a large tract of land in the west- 
em part of the township, on what is 
known as the old road to Claremont. 
The place is now(iSSo) in possession 
of Shepard H. Cutting. 

Mr. Richards was, for some years, 
one of the largest land holders and 
tax payers in the town. In connec- 
tion with his farming business he kept 
a way-side inn. where rest and refresh- 
ment awaited the dusty and chilly trav- 
eller — man and beast. This was near- 
ly three quarters of a century before 
the scream of the locomotive was ever 
heard in this part of New Hampshire, 
a time when the people were mostly 
dependent upon their own resources, 
in regard to methods of travel and 

We may digress to illustrate some 
phases of life at this period : Early 
in the winter season the forehanded 
up country farmer would load his cut- 
ter or sled with pork and poultry, and 
other products of the farm, and drive 
to Boston, Salem, or Newburyport, 
where he would barter, or sell and in- 
vest the proceeds of his load in dry 
goods and groceries, rum, tobacco and 
snuff, for family use during the year. 
If the weather was sufficiently frosty, 
a supply of fresh cod and halibut were 
taken along as luxuries of the season. 

In the course of time, as the country 
grew older, and the roads were im- 
proved and business increased, the 
■' pod teams," so-called, were super- 
seded by great six or eight- horse wag- 
ons, or land schooners, as they might 
be termed, covered with white canvas, 
that came to be employed in the inte- 
rior carrying trade. Sometimes a nam- 



bet of these teams from different towns 
on the route, would fall into line like 
an Arabian caravan, and their stately 
progress along the old pikes, and main 
country roads, would attract the ad- 
miring gaze of the rural population. 

To meet the wants of this pung and 
big-team travel and traffic, arose the 
village tavern, and at stated dis- 
tances along the route the way-side 
inn, with it? abundant larder, arid great 
glowing fire, founded on back-log and 
fore-^tick, around which the ruddy 
travelers gathered in the evening, and 
cracked their jokes while the firelight 
flashed upon the beams and panels, 
and lathee work that guarded — to our 
youthful imagination — the mysteri- 
ous precincts from whence, over a bar 
o( unusual height, were dispensed to 
the jolly circle — the Tarn O'Shanters 
and Souter johnnies that were wont to 
gather there-— the slings and toddies 
that inspired the festive scene, and 
which for the time being, doubtless, 
more than matched "the slings and 
arrows of outrageous fortune." That 
the Richards' inn, and the manner and 
custom of the time are illustrated in 
this pen sketch, we have no doubt. 
But the way-side inns of New Eng- 
land — their occupation gone — may 
be relegated to a place in the history 
of a past age, with the "Tabard Inn," 
of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, 
and the "Boar's Head," of the merry- 
old England, of time of Shakespeare. 

About the year 1812. Sylvanus Rich- 
ards moved to Newport Village, and 
became the proprietor of the ;> Rising 
Sun "tavern, a house originally built 
and occupied as a public house by 
Gordon Buell, the father of the late 
Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, of Philadelphia, 
the accomplished writer and editor of 
the '-'Lady's Book." It was in this 
house that Dexter Richards was born. 

Of the four children, all sons, born 
to Sylvanus and Lucy (Richardson) 
his wife, was Seth Richards (7), 
born in Dedham, Mass., Feb. 20, 1792, 
who grew up to aid him in his busi- 
ness, and ultimately succeeded to the 
proprietorship of the " Rising Sun." 

The writer remembers Capt. Seth 

Richards as a man of great personal 
activity and tact in business ; of irre- 
proachable integrity in all his transac- 
tions with his fellow men, through a 

long and busy life ; genial and benev- 
olent ; a downright gentleman of the 
old school, and in his departure leav- 
ing a place in the social and business 
affairs 01 this community exceedingly 
difficult to fill. 

He was often called by his fellow- 
citizens to fill town offices, and places 
of trust and responsibility, and was 
chosen as a representative to the state 
legislature, in 18$$. 

After leaving the hotel he turned his 
attention to the mercantile business, 
and was for some time a clerk in the 
store of PJrastus Baldwin, one of the 
earlier merchants of the town. In 
1835. w hen the Cheneys retired from 
Newport, he purchased their stock and 
trade, and the " old stand," and con- 
tinued the business successfully for 
many years, or until about the year 
".?$2>< v r ^£n he became interested in 
the Sugar River Flannel Mills — of 
which we shall have more to say here- 
after — and finally retired from active 
life about the year 1S67. 

He married, April S, 1817, Fanny 
Richards, of Dedham, Mass., and to 
them were born, in the years from 
1S1S to 1834, two sons and six daugh- 

In regard to the family of Seth and 
Fanny Richards, we may say that no 
more pleasant and hospitable home 
ever opened its doors in Newport. 
They died in the faith and communion 
of the Congregational church. Fanny 
died August 11, 1S54. Seth died Oct. 
30, 18.71. 

Of the children of Seth and Fanny 
Richards, was Dexter, born Sept. 5, 
1818, who is more particularly the 
subject of this sketch. 

Tracing his genealogy we find him 
in the eighth generation from Edward 
in the line of the American Richards. 
To say that Dextfr Richards was 
born with a silver spoon in his mouth, 
would belie the facts in the case ; but 
to say that he comes through a worthy 
line of ancestors, and that he inherits 


their good and noble qualities and best 
abilities, will meet our case at the thresh- 

old. He h 

sometime said that he 

never had any childhood, or youth, in the 
common acceptation of the term. That 
in his earl}' years, his parents were in 
moderate circumstances, and being the 

eldest son of a family mostly daughters 
he was called to work, and think of 
ways and means for promoting their 

While other lads of his age were 
engaged in their sports and pastimes, or 
enjoying public occasions like the old- 
fashioned trainings, and musters, fourth 
of July celebrations, or town meetings 
and court days, he early manifested a 
natural tact for business, by engaging 
in some juvenile enterprise, by which 
to turn an honest penny with the 

The public school in district num- 
ber two afforded him an opportunity 
for learning the rudiments of knowl- 
edge, which was eagerly improved 
summer and winter, as he could be 
spared from other duties. When about 
iS years of age he finished his educa- 
tion, so far as schools are concerned, 
with a term or two at a high school in 
Lebanon, under the tutelage of the 

party — men who arose in their mi 
declaring the patriotic sentiment 
their old leader and hero, Andrew 
Jackson — '"The Union must and shall 
be preserved." 

In regard to his public career, Mr. 
Richards was many times, when quite 
a young man, elected to serve on the 
board of selectmen. In the years 1 865 , 
1866 and 1870, he represented the town 
in the slate legislature. In 187 t and 

1872, he was 

:mber from this dis- 

Prof. Edmund 


late eminent 

Mr. Richards has, therefore, never 
been through with what is termed a 
regular course of study, and comes to 
us with no diploma from college or 
hall. The most important part of his 
education has been acquired outside 
the schools, in the great university of 
active life, and is of the most practical 

Politically, he was reared in the dem- 
ocratic faith ; but when the union of 
the states was assailed, the action of 
the Democratic party in regard to the 
great questions of that day not being 
in accord with his views, he withdrew 
from it, and affiliated with the Repub- 
lican party, just then commencing its 
career. The ranks of this great party 
that has for more than twenty years 
dominated in this country, were great- 
ly augmented and strengthened by 
such acquisitions from the Democratic 

trict of the Executive Council, and 
about that time a delegate to the Re- 
publican National Convention at Phil- 
adelphia, that nominated General Grant 
for his second term of the Presidency. 
In 1876 he was a delegate to the conven- 
tion for revising the constitution of the 
state ; and so far as his official course 
is concerned, from the beginning, it 
has been distinguished by eminent 
ability and the strictest integrity. The 
'• spoils," so-called, have never been 
his object in accepting offices of trust, 
at the hands of his constituents. He 
has found his reward more in the 
fait hml and conscientious performance 
of his duty. 

In regard to the business career of 
Mr. Richards, we may say it has been 
characterized by great industry and 
enterprise, on a basis of good judg- 
ment, and in a spirit of fair dealing 
throughout. We have already alluded 
ro his early inclination to buy and sell 
and get gain, in a small way, as a 
boy, and in this respect the child fore- 
shadowed the man. During the years 
of his minority he was the faithful and 
efficient coadjutor of his father in all his 
plans and purposes, and particularly 
so when Capt. Seth Richards succeed- 
ed to the mercantile business at the 
old Cheney stand, about the year 1S35. 
Jn the management of this business 
the son was a most important factor, 
and on coming of age became a part- 
ner with his father. The business was 
well managed and profitable, and with 
it came prosperity to the Richards 
family, and to Dexter Richards, the 
foundation and assurance of future 
successes in life. About the year 
1853, Richards and Son can;? to be 



interested in a flannel mill, in Newport, 

that, possibly, had not heretofore been 
very successfully managed. The his- 
tory of tli is concern may be briefly 
stated as follows : 

The Sugar River mills were built in 
1847, by Perley S. Coffin and John 
Puffer. About the year 5853, Rich- 
ards & Son (Dexter) succeeded, by 
purchase to the original interest of 
John Puffer, then owned by D. J. 
Goodridge. On the retirement of the 
senior Richards, in 1867, changes were 
made by which the entire establish- 
ment came into possession of Dexter 
Richards. Mr. Coffin retiring from the 
concern with a handsome fortune. 

In the prosecution of the business 
up to this time, the parties interested 
had been singularly favored by circum- 
stances that brought disaster to many 
other firms and business men through- 
out our northern towns and cities. 
We have reference to the great civil 
war that about, this time (1S61--65) 
so muc T -' disturbed the commerce of 
the country. 

Of the gray twilled flannels pro- 
duced by the Sugar River mills, a large 
stock had accumulated at this time. 
The goods were well adapted to the 
wants of laborers, and particularly the 
soldiers in the Union army. The war 
created a demand ; prices appreciated ; 
the machinery was kept running night 
and day ; the flannels found ready 
sale as fast as they could be produced, 
and the success of the Sugar River 
mills was henceforth assured. 

In the mean time, the establish- 
ment had been greatly enlarged and 
improved, and was turning out about 
800,000 yards of flannels yearly. 

In 1872, Seth Mason Richards, the 
eldest son of Dexter Richards, a young 
man just entered upon his majority, 
was admitted to a partnership with his 
father. Enlargements and improve- 
ments have continued from time to 
time, and the condition of the estab- 
lishment at this date, 1880, may be 
stated as follows : Dexter Richards 
& Son, proprietors ; capita] stock, 

$150,000. S. M. Richards, superin- ! 

tendentj Arthur 13. Chase, secretary.! The means to revive and continue 

! It gives steady employment to 85 op- 
| eratives ; runs 8 sets of cards, 44 nar- 
row looms, 35 spinning machines ; 
works up .'80,000 lbs. cotton and wool, 
and turns out annually nearly 1,000,- 
000 yards gray twilled flannels. 

The trade mark (D. R. P.) of these 
goods is well known among dealers 
and others, throughout the country, 
and the products of the factory find 
market and ready sale through coin- 
mission merchants in Boston, New- 
York, Philadelphia, and Chicago. 

Up to the year 1871, the manufac- 
turing and agricultural interests of New- 
port, and the towns adjoining, had 
achieved all the prosperity it was pos- 
sible for them to attain without railroad 
facilities to enable them to compete suc- 
cessfully with other places in the en- 
joyment of sucli facilities. As early 
as 18.pS, the Concord & Claremont 
Railroad Company had been incorpor- 
ated, and in 1850 the road had been 
put in operation to Bradford. From 
Bradford to Claremont the tugged na- 
ture of the route was appalling to en- 
gineers and contractors, and particu- 
larly so to capitalists who were expect- 
ed to construct the road. The enter- 
prise here came to a stand. Further 
efforts, legislative and otherwise, to 
continue the work, were made without 
success, and for twenty-one years the 
heavy laden stages and teams contin- 
ued to toil on over the weary hills, to 
and fro, waiting for some able and 
friendly hand to establish a new order 
of things, and deliver them. In the 
meantime the war of the rebellion, 
that had absorbed the thought, and 
labor, and capital of the country, had 
come and gone, and "enterprises of 
great pith and moment," that had long 
slumbered, were again revived — day 
dawned again upon the Sugar River 

In the year 1866, mainly through 
the influence of Dexter Richards, then 
a member of the legislature, and his 
enterprise as a citizen, the Sugar River 
Railroad Company, now known as the 
Concord & Claremont Railroad Com- 
pany, was chartered. 



the building of the road through to 
Claremont were furnished by the Nor- 
thern Railroad Company, ai led by 
large assessments on the towns on the 
route of the road. The town of New- 
port,, by official act, became responsi- 

ble u 

45,000, or about live per cent. 

on its valuation. h\ addition to tins 
amount, the further sum of $20,000 
was required to assure the continuance 
and completion of the work. Of thus 
amount, Mr. Richards became liable 
for $11,000, and other parties interest- 
ed made up the remaining 89,000. 
The assurance of 865,000 from the 
town of Newport secured the con- 
struction of the road through to Clare- 
mont beyond a doubt. 

On the 31st day of May. 1870, Capt. 
Seth Richards, then in the 79th. year of his 
age, and Dr. Mason Hatch, in the Soth 
year of his age, the father and father- 
in-law of Dexter Richards, the former 
with spade and mattock, and the latter 
with <i gaily painted wheelbarrow, in 
which appeared a shovel, attended by 
a large number of enthusiastic citizens, 
repaired to a point on the projected 
road near where the passenger depot 
now stands, and while the church bells 
rang, and cannon pealed, and the 
crowd cheered, these veterans picked 
and shoveled and wheeled the first 
ground broken in continuation of an 
enterprise that has been, in its comple- 
tion, of incalculable benefit to New- 
port and its neighboring towns. The 
first train of cars crossed Main street, 
in Newport, on Nov. 26,1871. The road 
was soon afterward completed to Clare- 
mont, and the first regular train from 
Bradford to Claremont passed through 
Newport, Sept. 16, 1S72. 

It was also through the instrumen- 
tality of Mr. Richards, that in July, 
1866, the wires of the Western Union 
Telegraph Company were extended 
and in operation to tins town. Of 
the £1000 subscribed by citi- 
zens of Newport, to secure this great 
facility of communication, three fourths 
of the amount were paid by him. 

Mr. Richards has identified himself 
with the friends of education, and 
Dartmouth college particularly, by the 

endowment of a scholarship in that 
venerable and favorite institution of 

learning. He has also contributed lib- 
erally to the support of Kimball Union 
Academy, at Meriden, of which he is 
one of the trustees. 

He is also one of the founders and 
benefactors of the Orphans Home, at 
Franklin, and a trustee of the N. H. 
Asylum for the Insane, at Concord, 
benevolent institutions that are an hon- 
or to our state. 

The Congregational church and so- 
sciety, of Newport, of which Mr. 
Richards has -been for man}' years a 
member, are greatly indebted to him 
for their present substantial prosperity. 
He has identified himself not only 
with the ample support of the ministry 
of this time-honored church ; its mis- 
sion work ; its charities, local and re- 
mote ; its sunday-school — of which, 
up to 1878, when he retired from the 
position, he had been for more than 
twenty years the superintendent — but 
with the improvements and additions 
to its buildings and grounds, and the 
erection of its parsonage. 

At an expense of some $2,500, he- 
has placed a large and fine toned or- 
gan in the choir as a memorial of a 
beloved daughter (Elizabeth), who 
died in the year 186S, in the twenty- 
first year of her age. 

To complete the list of interests that 
wait on Mr. Richards for his attention, 
we find his name as one of the direc- 
tors of the Eastern Railroad in New 
Hampshire ; and, also, one of the 
directors of the N. H. Fire Insurance 
Company, at Manchester. He is the 
president of the First National Bank, 
of Newport. He was also one of the 
founders, and the first president of the 
Newport Savings Rank, chartered July 
1, 1868, and now in successful opera- 

He married, Jan. 27, 1847, Louisa 
Frances, daughter of the late Doctor 
Mason Hatch, a long time highly es- 
teemed physician and citizen of New- 

Of the six children bom to them in 
the years from 1847 to 1867, three 
only survive : Seth Mason, born Ji\n?. 



6. 1856, now a partner with his father 
in the Sugar River milks establishment, 
in wiiich he has exhibited superior 

business qualities, and bids fair to be- 
come a useful and influential citizen ot 
of the town and state; Josephine 
Ellen, born Oci 30, 1S55, a graduate 
of the Fcnnie Seminary, at Andover, 
Mass., and the founder of a scholar- 
ship in honor of her Alma Mater. 
She is now (tSSo) seeking entertain- 
ment and culture by an extended tour 
of a year or two, with a party in Eu- 
rope. William Francis, born Jan. 28, 
1S67, is now a student connected with 
St. John's Episcopal School, at New- 
port", R. I. 

The Richards family have a delight- 
ful cottage at Straw's Point. Rye beach, 
where an unaffected hospitality, as well 
as the breath of the sea, await their 
friends during the summer months. 

There are several instances in the 
history of Newport of men who, hav- 
ing acquired wealth in their dealings 
with its citizens, have removed to more- 
important places to enjoy the. spend- 
ing and investing of their incomes, 
without leaving behind them any vis- 
ible improvement in the way of build- 
ings, or a public good of any kind — 
nothing but a memory of their insa- 
tiate avarice, followed by unsparing 
criticisms. Such a record can never be 
made of Dexter Richards. 

With increasing ability in the way of 
means, he has manifested a corres- 
ponding disposition to improve the 
physical aspect of his native town. 
He has placed on the street not only 
his elegant private residence, but houses 
for rent, and substantial and sightly 
blocks of buildings for business pur- 
poses. He has improved his factory 
buildings and grounds, built barns, cul- 
tivated lands, produced crops, interest- 
ed himself in improved breeds of cat- 
tle and horses, thus given employ- 
ment to many working men and hands, 
and increased the productive industry 
of the town and its general valuation 
in many respects, aside from his man- 
ufacturing interest, as indicated by the 
assessments for taxation. He is by 
far the largest tax payer in Newport. 

and one of the; largest in Sullivan county 
and the state of New Hampshire. 

It is better to exhibit the personal 
characteristics of Mr. Richards by his 
acts, and the indorsement of a well 
settled public opinion, rather than by 
any eulogium of our own, that might 
h<j regarded as an excess of compli- 

There is, perhaps, no more exhaus- 
tive test of character than life in a 
New England village. One literally 
goes in and out in the presence of the 
enemy's pickets, though they may not 
be enemies. To be born, and reared, 
and travel on contemporaneously, week 
after week, month a her month, for 
forty, fifty, or sixty years, in the 
same community, each individual mem- 
ber of which comes to know and read, 
as he is known and read, of all the 

If there is any evil thing, or wicked 
way in him, it will work out ; on the 
other hand, if there is any good thing, 
or righteous way. it becomes apparent, 
and each one finds his or her relative 
position in the social horizon, as the 
down of the thistle adjusts itself to the 
gravity of the atmosphere. 

There is no appeal from the judg- 
ment of such a tribunal, which, like a 
"mill of the gods, grinds slowly and 
exceeding small." 

In estimating the personal charac- 
teristics that distinguish the subject of 
this sketch, as they appear to the com- 
munity in which he has been a promi- 
nent figure for so many years, and in 
which he has stood the test we have 
made, of all criticism, we may say- 
that if there is any secret in his suc- 
cess in life, it is a very open one, and 
may be easily comprehended and em- 
ulated by the young men of the rising 
generation. It came of no sudden 
freak of fortune, or the suppressed 
anxiety of one inertly awaiting the re- 
sult of some lottery scheme ; but as 
the reward of long continued and well 
directed application to business. 

As a clerk in his father's store, he 
early won the confidence and esteem 
of his patrons and the entire commun- 
ity, by a course of honorable dealing 

9 6 


and an assiduous regard rb: their want? 
and interests. 

These qualities extended with his 
business growth and wider sphere of 
action, and have continued with him 
to the present. 

With the good judgment resulting 
from a well balanced mind and a just 
view of men and things, he has not 
been captured by his own success, 
and led on to any arrogant assump- 
tion of superiority over his less fortu- 
nate neighbors. With a most estima- 
ble family and all the means of do- 
mestic and social enjoyment at home, 
and travel abroad, in his intercourse 
with his fellow-citizens of all classes 
and conditions, no more unpretending 
or approachable man walks the streets 
of Newport. If there is anything that 
meets his unqualified disapprobation, 
it is a pompous and empty show for 
personal effect. 

As a reader of books, we may say 

that he has never wasted any time on 
what is known as "'yellow covered liter- 
ature," but confined his attention to 
| works of substantial merit, and current 
publications bearing upon the banking 
operations, commerce, and manufac- 
tures of the country, in which he is 
most interested. 

As a thinker, his mind seizes upon 
the most salient points in all the; prom- 
inent social, political, and business 
questions of the day ; and his conclu- 
sions are well digested; and drawn with 
a careful intelligence. 

He has managed his private affairs 
and the public business, as far as it 
has been intrusted to his care, with 
superior ability, and now in his ma- 
ture prime of life, should the state 
require his further service, his past 
record, and present position, would af- 
ford an abundant guarantee for the 
able fulfilment of any future or more 
important trust. 



Hon. B. W. Jenness, born in Deer- 
field, N. H., and who died of heart 
disease in Cleveland, Ohio, Nov. 23d, 
1879, at the age of 73 years, was a 
man of remarkable experience, as hav- 
ing narrowly escaped a nomination for 
President, at a time when the nomina- 
tion was equivalent to election. 

He went to Cleveland in 1862, hav- 
ing previously been postmaster, mem- 
ber of the New Hampshire legislature, 
high sheriff, probate judge, and candi- 
date on the Breckinridge ticket for 
Governor of his native state, which lat- 
ter he declined • was appointed as Sen- 
ator of the United States to serve out 
the term of Levi Woodbury in 1845-6, 
and in 1850 was a member of the New 
Hampshire Constitutional Convention. 
The most remarkable escape is record- 
ed for Mr. Jenness, who lacked only 

one vote of being President. The 
facts are as follows : 

At the Democratic National Con- 
vention held in 1852, the choice of a 
candidate for President was referred 
by common consent to the New Hamp- 
shire delegation, and a caucus was called 
to name the coming man. The names 
of Franklin Pierce and B. W. Jenness 
were presented, and the balloting com- 
menced. There were nine delegates, 
and the chairman not casting a vote 
the ballot stood four for Mr. Pierce 
and four for Judge Jenness. The chair- 
man was called upon, and gave the 
casting vote to Pierce, which eventual 
ly made him President of the United 
States. Had Judge Jenness receive'! 
that one vote he would in all orobabili 

tv have attained 
Mr. Pierce. 




In a speech delivered in Boston 
shortly after " nullification " times, Dan- 
iel Webster is said to have reached the 
very acme of oratorical perfection. He 
was referring to Hayne's speaking of 
"one Nathan Dane.'' Mr. Webster 
always considered Dane as the author 
of the celebrated Northwestern Ordi- 
nance, by which that large territory was 
consecrated to freedom. A distin- 
guished legal writer in referring to the 
scene says : . "He [Webster] exclaim- 
ed very scornfully, ' Mr. Hayne calls 
him one Nathan Dane ! I tell you, 
fellow-citizens, that, as the author of 
the Northwestern Ordinance. Nathan 
Dane's name is as immortal as if it 
were written in yonder firmament, blaz- 
ing forever between Orion and Pleia- 
des ! ' It is impossible to give an 
idea of the effect which Webster's de- 
livery of these words produced. Throw- 
ing back his head, raising his face to- 
wards the heavens, lifting both arms in 
front of him, and pointing upwards to 
the overarching sky, so magnificent 
was his attitude and so thrilling the 
tones of his voice, that we almost 
seemed to see the starry characters 
shining in eternal lustre upon the firm- 
ament. The effect was sublime. I 
have never seen it equalled upon the 
stage, not even by the greatest act- 

Referring to Mr Webster's magnetic, 
power in his palmiest days, the same 
writer observes : " I have seen him 
when every nerve was quivering with 
excitement, when his gestures were 
most violent, when he was shouting at 
the top of his clarion voice, when the 
lightnings of passion were playing 
across his dark face as upon a thunder- 
cloud. I marked the terrible effect 
when, after repeated assaults — each 
more damaging than the preceding — 
upon the position of an opponent, he 
launched with superhuman strength 
the thunderbolt that sped straight to 
its mark, and demolished all before it. 
The air seemed filled with the rever- 
berations of the deep-mouthed thunder." 
When the present SporTord mansion 
on Deer Island, near Newburyport, 
Ma^s., was a " tavern," it was at one 

| time kept by a landlord named Eben- 
| ezcr Pearson, who was arrested, in 
! common wit!) the occupants of other 
houses in the vicinity, on the charge oi~ 
| highway robbery. His hostelry became 
the centre of attraction for the time be- 
ing, as he was so prominent in the 
case. It proved to be " a celebrated 
, case " of sham-robbery committed near 
i by, by a Major Goodridge, who came 
! from Bangor, Maine, and shot himself 
| in the hand and otherwise injured him- 
i self to make his story plausible. The 
I act was committed on the Newbury 
I side of the river, on a hill on which the 
| indignant populace subsequently built 
| a gallows and hung Goodridge in efri- 
i gy ; and the place is still known as 
| -'Gallows Kill." Goodridge was an 
express agent, and believed by this 
J subterfuge he could avoid the settle- 
ment of certain pecuniary obligations. 
It was a premeditated affair, and the 
| villain had scattered gold in several 
| houses prior to committing the deed to 
I aid in the deception. The defendants 
| were represented at the trial by the 
| "great Daniel," and it is said to have 
! been at these trials that Rufus Choate 
I first saw the famous expounder with 
whom he was afterwards so intimately 
! associated, Choate being then a mere 
I youth at Dartmouth College. 
I We learn from our friend Hoyt of 
I Amesbury that the trials are preserved 
i in a little book written by a Newbury- 
I port gentleman, Mr. Joseph Jackman. 
I The cases attracted a deal of attention. 
| Drs. Richard S. Spofford, Sr., of New- 
i buryport, and Israel Balch of Ames- 
j bury, with others, detected Goodridge's 
! ruse, and he was afterward indicted and 
! convicted for the crime of ' ; robbing 
..himself." "The genial host of the 
wayside inn," says an able author, "was 
terribly disturbed during the progress 
of his own trial. He had employed. 
Webster because he was 'smart,' but 
he said that while the other lawyers 
1 were taking the evidence and covering 
j the bar tables with a shower of ink, the 
I ' old man eloquent ' was either asleep 
j or walking about with a nonchalance 
! which, to the tremblinn prisoner, was 

simply appalling. But whs 



aminations were finished and the time 
came for the arguments, the legal giant 
unbent himself, and thundering forth 
his ' May it please your Honor, and 
you, Mr. Foreman,' etc.. entered into 
such an exposition of his client's c ause 
that that honorable individual who but 
a few minutes before had cursed his 
advocate as ' an old tool ' felt to bless 
the stars of Ins nativity that a second 
Daniel had come to judgment. Pear- 
son, on his acquittal, was carried home 
in triumph on the shoulders of the 
people. The theory which Webster 
adopted in his defence, and which was 
abundantly confirmed by the facts, is 
said to have been suggested when on a 
staare-coach, weeks before he was re- 
tained, by a fellow traveller, who was 
no other than Jacob Perkins, the well- 
known inventor." 

Of Daniel Webster, when lie visited 
Wheeling, Virginia, with ins wife and 
daughter, an intelligent old inhabitant 
remarks : " That massive man who 
seemed to loom up above all others, 
who inspired one with his majesty ot 
person, with his voice, with the Hash of 
his deep-set, dark hazel eyes and with 
his every movement, was not really a 
large man — in height he was only five 
feet ten inches. His head looked very 
large, but there are many as large. He 
wore a 7 | hat. Mr. Clay looked much 
smaller, but was really of the same 
size. His shoulders and chest were 
very large, that was all ; he tapered to 
small hips and very small hands and 
feet. He weighed very little, if any, 
over two hundred pounds. He re- 
mained in Wheeling over Sunday, and 
attended the Rev. Dr. Weed's church 
on Fourth street, where he said he 
heard a very good sermon. It was 
amusing to see him and his family go- 
ing to church. He went ahead with 
that never-to-be-forgotten tramp, plac- 
ing his foot down as though he intend- 
ed it to stay there. There was no 
elasticity in his legs, and apparently 
there were no bones, heel or instep in 
nis feet. His wife, not much for pret 
ty, came about a rod behind, with 

much the same tramp. Miss Kate 
went a rod behind her, with more of 
good looks and less of the tramp, but 
she was very hard to keep step with, 
and if t h e d ; ; i s i e s f Ma r s I A . fi e 1 d w u 1 d 
rise unhurt from under her feet, they 
are hardier than any I have seen." 

One of Webster's stories Heter Har- 
vey used to repeat thus : " Webster 


1 Jeremiah Mason w 


vine the 

circuit together m the latter s chaise. 

It was on Sunday ; they thought they 
would make a call on the Shakers ; this 
was at Enfield. Friend Dyer told Mr. 
Mason, ! We cannot admit thee on the 
Sabbath.' [Mason, used earnest em- 
phasis in his speech at that early day.] 
Hie colloquy failing to get them in, 
Mason angrily said, ' Do you know who 
I am?' "'Nay,' said the unruffled 
Shaker, ' but judging from thy size and 
thy profanity, I take thee to be Jere- 
miah Mason !' " 

When Webster was beginning his po- 
litical career, he consulted with his po- 
litical friends as to the course to be 
pursued, and wrote to " Mr. Printer " 
of the Portsmouth paper as he would 
write orders to an intelligent servant. 
All this has changed, and " Mr. Print- 
er " has grown to be " Mr. Editor," 
and makes the politicians, instead of 
their making him. 

In the April number of the Atlantic 
Monthly Mr. Whittier pays an eloquent 
tribute to the majestic presence and 
gifts of Daniel Webster. This poem, 
published nearly eighteen years after 
J his death, is a magnificent, though dis- 
! criminating contribution to his memo- 
| ry. The concluding passage is regard- 
ed as one of Whittier's best : 


* * * * Where thy native mountains bear 

Tiu ir foreheads to diviner air, 

Fit emblem? of enduring fame, 

One lofty summit keeps thy name. 

For thee the cosmic forces did 

The rearing of that pyramid; 

The prescient ages shaping with 

Fire, flood and frost thy monolith. 

Sunrise and sunset lay thereon 

With hand* of light their beriison; 

The star? of midnight pause to set 

Their jewels in K*» coroivet. 

And evermore that mountain mass 

Seems climbing from the shadowy pass 

To light, as it' to manifest 

Tny nobler self, thy life at best ! 






One winter evening several years ago 
I. was caught in a snow-storm at Lake 
Village. 1 was well repaid for my en- 
forced delay by forming the acquaint- 
ance of Rev. Leander S. Coan, and 
in listening to the public recitation of 
some of his favorite poems— notably 
several of the Old Corporal series. 
Thereafter I eagerly read, as occasion 
offered, the various productions of his 
gifted pen, and meeting him frequent- 
ly, greatly enjoyed his companionship. 
Several of his poems grace the pages 
of the Granite Monthly. His death 
in early manhood seemed a personal 

Soon after his decease personal 
friends and comrades united in col- 
lecting the popular and touching po- 
ems which he had given to the public 
from time to time ; and they have been 
lately published in an attractive form 
by E. O. Lord and company of Great 
tails, for the benefit of .Mrs. Coan and 

the orphan children. Accompanying 
is a biographical sketch of the poet by 
his brother. Dr. E. S. Coan, from whose 
data I take the following facts. 

Leander S. Coan was the eldest son 
of Deacon Samuel Coan — a descend- 
ant of Peter Coan, who came to 
America from Worms, Germany, in 
i 715. He was born in Exeter, Maine, 
November 17, 1837, and claimed on 
his mother's side direct descent from a 
Pilgrim ancestor who " came over in 
the Mayflower." His parents were in 
humble circumstances, but they real- 
ized the importance of a thorough edu- 
cation, and fostered in him a desire to 
acquire it. At the age of twenty he 
resolved to adopt the law as his pro- 
fession, and with that end in view he 

went to Bangor to enter th 


ex-Governor Kent as a student Reel- 
ing himself deficient in preparation to 
enter upon his professional studies, he 
accepted a school in Brewer for a sea- 



son. While there his plan for the cam- 
paign of life underwent a radical 
change : he felt called upon to give up 
all and follow the Great Teacher. With 
the utmost zeal he entered upon his 
chosen calling and pursued his prepar- 
atory studies ai die Theological Semi- 
nary at Bangor, where he graduaieil in 
1 86 2. The following year lie was or- 
dained over the church in Amherst, 
Maine. In August, 1864, while spend- 
ing his vacation at Cohasset, Massa- 
chusetts, he acknowledged the debt he 
owed his country, and enlisted, during 
the darkest days of the rebellion, as a 
private in the Sixty-first Massachusetts 
Volunteers. During the memorable 
months that followed, his bravery and 
patriotism won for him the title of the 
" fighting parson." During his term 
of service he acted as chaplain of the 
battalion to which he was attached, but 
was not commissioned. 

After the war was over he preached 
the gospel of peace in Maine and Mas- 
sachusetts, until, in 1S74, he accepted 
the charge of the Congregational church 
at Alton, on the borders of Lake Win- 
nipiseogee, where he remained until 

his death, in September, 1879. During 
his residence in Xew Hampshire he 

was widely known and loved. His 
voice was welcomed at many a reunion 
and literary gathering; while his facile 
pen, guided by genius, patriotism and 
love of humanity, helped him to mould 
public opinion and gather about him a 
host of sympathetic friends. His beau- 
tiful poems will ever be treasured in 
many a New England home where 
their pathos was duly appreciated. 

In person Mr Coan was rather be- 
low the medium height, compactly 
built, with broad shoulders, large, well- 
poised head, and a ruddy countenance, 
beaming always with good nature; of 
ardent temperament and strong feel- 
ings, though not fanatical or dogmatic; 
proud of his record as a soldier and in- 
tensely patriotic ; laboring assiduously 
in the cause of temperance, good gov- 
ernment and morality ; active in all 
good works. Perhaps the best monu- 
ment he has left behind is the book of 
poetry already referred to. It is poe- 
try of a high order and would enrich 
and ennoble every home where it is 
read and treasured. 



Another joy has gone out of a life. 

As though a moon should drop from its path, 
Fall away from a cluster 
Of stars, bereaving the sky of its lustre. 

The earth of its glory. Who is there who fears 
Xot a still, ignominious strife, 

The torture of desolate tears. 

The tires of a smouldering wrath, 

That will burn through the lingering years, 
And be quenched in the lethe of death V 

A gloom, that can never depart, 
Since trie light of each pitiless morrow 

Must bring to an o'erburdened heart 
A voiceless ami measureless sorrow. 









The Rev. Timothy Walker, author of 
the following diary, was the first minis- 
tor of Concord, New Hampshire; and. 
from the organization of its church to 
his death— a period of fifty-two years — 
its only one. He was bom in Woburn, 
Massachusetts, was graduated at Har- 
vard College, in 1725, and was ordained 
.-end settled m Pennycook, now Concord. 
on the eighteenth day of November, 
L730, when twenty-five years of age. 
Like the rest of "the settlers: he went 
there to stay, and at once identified him- 
self with ail their interests, faithfully 
devoting to these the best energies of 
his life." He possessed good mental abil- 
ities and a good education, together with 
strong; common sense, and prudence. 
lie was not only their spiritual adviser. 
but their legal and temporal counsellor" 
as well. 

His modest salary, insufficient for his 
support, was supplemented by the in- 
come of the parsonage lands and of the 
farm which came to him as a township 
proprietor. He thus became a farmer, 
as well as minister, and was in this rela- 
tion brought into more intimate sym- 
pathy with his people than might have 
otherwise existed. 

His pacific feelings and good sense 
contributed greatly to the maintenance 
of friendly relations with the neighbor- 
ing Indians, liable at any time "to be 
provoked to acts of violence by imagi- 
nary grievances or the wily counsels of 
the French. 

But. pacific as was his disposition, he 
held to the .-acred right of self defense. 
When, therefore, some twenty years 
after his settlement, a company* having 
no existence but upon paper, laid claim 
to the fair town winch his people had 
wrested from the forest, he personally 
championed their cause in the courts, 
making no less than three journeys to 
England in their behalf, and obtaining;. 
finally, at the Court of St, James, the 

redress denied them at home. This 
straggle Listed about thirteen years, and 
proved, ultimate!), as successful as it had 
been heroic and protracted. 

All through the Revolutionary War 
he was an ardent patriot. His spirit of 
devotion to the country's cause may be 
seen in a little incident which occurred, 
one Sunday, in 1777. Col. Gordon 
Hutchins. having ridden express from 
Exeter, hastih dismounted from his 
horse and entered the old North meeting- 
house during the afternoon service. 
The pastor's quick eye noted his entrance 
and his anxious heart apprehended pub- 
lic peril. Pausing in his discourse, he 
asked aloud, ''What news, Col. Hutch- 
ins?" Upon learning that Burgoyne 
was moving down with his army from 
Canada, and that forces were wanted to 
meet him, he said, at once, " Those of 
yon who can go had best retire, and get 
read}- to march to-morrow morning.** 
i After such had left, the service 
i proceeded to its conclusion. The 
I following night was a busy one, but in 
the early dawn of the next day their 
aged minister invoked God's blessing 
upon a well equipped band of brave men. 
and dismissed them to Bennington and 
victor y. 

He lived to rejoice at the surrender of 
Corn wal lis, to see the establishment of in- 
dependence, and the substantial close of 
the war. dying September 1, 17S2. 

For many years Mr. Walker kept 
brief diaries of current events. Some of 
these have been preserved and afford 
vivid pictures of Xew England country 
life on the Indian frontier. The one 
which follows was written just one hun- 
dred years ago. after the more active 
period of his life had passed, and when 
he was seventy-five years old. Others 
of earlier dates, are filled with more 
stirring incidents, but this one shows an 
abiding interest in the welfare of his 
country and his people, a deep love for 
his children audi neighbors, and a surviv- 
ing interest in rural pursuits. 




Yv\ M. 1780. January has . r S1 days. 

7 1 Cold weather begins ye year. 

1 2 Continued cold. Preached all 

day. In the ye evening visited 
the sick sou of James Hazel- 

2 3 Fell a snow of considerable 

depth. Visited daughter 

3 4 Coldest weather we have had. 

Winds high. Snow vastly 

4 5 Weather a little moderated. 

5 6 Wind increased. Travelling 

very difficult. 

6 7 Wind continued excessive high. 

Philip went with a team to 

7 8 Winds ye same. Very cold. 

1 Weather still ye same*. Preached 

all da v. 

2 10 Ye first" pleasant, day for along 


3 11 Continued pleasant' weather. 

Mr. Foster arrived from Ex- 
eter, being ye first yt arrived 
since ye turbulent weather. 

4 12 Weather continued pleasant. 

5 13 The X. W. wind resinned ye 

ascendency. Married Stephen 
Hall and Patience Flanders, 
both of Concord. 

G 14 X. W. wind still prevalent. 

7 lo Team- yt had been detained be- 
low a fortnight by the deep 
and drifted show arrived. 

1 16 Preached a 11. day. Still very cold. 

2 17 Had a very bad cold. 

3 18 Visited Daughter Thompson. 

4 19 Cloudy, but no snow. 

5 20 Cleared up cold. 

G 21 Visited Daughter Thompson. 
7 22 Continued yqvy cold. 

1 23 Preached all day. Very cold. 

The coldest Sunday yt has 
been for years. 

2 24 Son Timothyf set out Tor Boston. 

3 25 This and ye preceding day more 

pleasant than we have had. 

4 26 Nothing remarkable. 

5 27 Visited at Daughter Thompson's. 

6 28 X. W. wind renewed its force. 

7 29 Continued very cold. 

1 30 Preached all day. 

2 31 Perhaps the coldest day we 

have had ye season. 

Account of marria-ges in January. 
13 D. Stephen Hall and Pari. -nee Flan- 
ders, both of Concord. 

W. M. February haa 29 days. 

3 1 Light wind, southerly. Cloud- 

ed P. M. 

4 2 Cleared up. Wind X. W.. bur 

not extreme cold. 

5 3 A very pleasant day. 

6 4 Do. 

7 5 The X. W. wind revived with in- 

creased vigor. 

1 6 Preached all day. In ye evening 

Col. ITurd advenit. 

2 7 A pleasant day. 

3 8 A moderate snow, four or five 

inches deep. 

4 Cleared up cold. W r ind X. W. 

5 10 Do. 

6 11 Weather a little moderated. 

7 12 Had news from ye General 

Co int. 

1 13 Preached all day. 

2 14 Visited at Capt. Roach's. 

3 lo Attended ye funeral of Mrs. 

Shute. Began a thaw. Pained 
chief of ye night. 

4 16 Mr. Prince preached a lecture 


5 17 Dined with Mr. Prince* at Mr. 


6 18 The thaw much damaged ye 


7 19 Attended ye funeral of Joseph 

Clough's' child, and baptized 
Elizabeth, his other daughter. 
1 20 Preached and in evening married 
Samuel Willard and Sarah 
Thompson, both of Concord, 
p 21 Thawy weather. Capt. Kins- 
man arrived from Boston. Xo 

3 22 Visited at Daughter Chandler's. f 

4 23 Visited at Daughter Thompson's. 

24 Went to William Brown's and 

there married John Dobbin 
and Sarah Brown, both of 

6 25 Cold but not extreme. Sou Tim- 

othy set out for Exeter. 

7 26 Hazy! Likely for a snow. 

1 27 Preached at Pembroke. Bap- 

tized a daughter of Aaron 
Whittemore. Do. of John 
Head. Do. of Nath'l Lake- 
man. Mr. Colby} preached 
for me. 

2 28 Heard various rumors of ye re- 

volt of Ireland. 

♦Mrs. Sarah Thompson, wife of Benjamin 
Thompson, afterwards Count Rumford. 
f Hon. Timothy Walker. 

* Rev. Joseph Prince, first minister of Barring- 

j 3I>. Walker's youngest daughter, tIu.> widow of 
Capt. Abial Chandler of Concord, who died in 

I Wow Zaccheus Colby, ordained Jlarch 22, 17SC, 
and pastor of the Pembroke church from 17i ito 







very pleasant day end.- y 

Account of marriages in Feb'y, viz: 
20 D. Samuel Willard and Sarah 

Thompson, both of Concord. 
24 D. John Dobbin and Sarah Brown, 

both of Chester. 

4 1 
7 4 
1 5 

2 6 

3 7 

4 8 









Marcli has 31 days. 

The first, second and third days 

Dined at. Daughter Thompson's 
with Sep*. Page. 

The company kept Sabbath here.. 
Preached. Baptized Peter 
Hazeltine— of Dan'l Abbott; 
Abial — of Benja. Farnum; 
Sam'l— of Richard Aver; Hep- 
zihah — of Jabez Abbott and 
Betty— Obadiah Hall. 

Dined at Mrs. Osgood's with Sqr. 
Page. Annual Town Meet- 

Continued moderate weather. 

Heard pr. Mr. Carlton that Mr. 
Ingalls from Androscoggin 
said ye snow had not been 
above twelve inches deep 
there tins winter. 

Nothing remarkable. 

Last night and to-day fell about 
six inches snow. 

Cl->udy. but no falling weather. 

Preached. Snowed somewhat. 
Read the letter from Pembroke 
eh. to assist in ordaining Mr. 
Colby. The church chose 









Stickney and 
Jr., Esq!, dele- 















• r > 







Col. Thomas 
Timo. Walker 

A pleasant day. 

Married Alexander Lon^ 
Anna Moor of Bow. 

Visited at Mr. Stevens's and Mr. 

Married Mr. Nathaniel Kolfe, 
Junior, and Mrs. Judith Chand- 
ler, both of Concord; also 
James Garvin, Junior, and 
Sarah Mitchell, both of Bow. 

Nothing remarkable. 


Preached all day. 

Nothing remarkable. 

Married Samuel Abbott. Junior, 
of Pembroke, an 1 Lydia Per- 
rum of Concord. 

Attended ye ordination of Mr. 
Colby at Pern-broke. 

Messrs Rice and Kellv departed. 

Fell a small flight of snow and 

Cleared up, moderate. 

Preached. Baptized James Os- 
good— of Jeremiah Abbott. 

The last week h March cold, bluster- 
ing weather for \ ■ most parr. 

Account of >'. .' riages in March. 
W. M. 

14 D. Alexander hong and Anna 
Moor. both of Bow. 

16 D. Xathd R*vlfe. Jr.. and Judith 
Chandl . both of Concord. 

10 D. James Garvin, dun. and Sarah 
Mitchell. 1 oth of Bow. 

21 D. Sam'1 Abbott. Junior, of Pem- 
broke, ar.d Lydia Per rum, 
both of Concord. 

April has 30 days. 

1 Very col i for ye season. Post 
brought ve first newspaper we 
haved.a f. 

2 Preached all day. Very cold. 

3 Town meeting is adjourned 

to ye firs! Monday. July. 

4 Ye first spring-like day for a 
good while. 

5 Weather i mtinued moderate. 

6 Nothing remarkable. 

7 Weather grew colder. 

8 In ye evening hurt my foot bad- 

ly. X. B.-Sat'y ye 8th sowed 
my first peas. 

1 9 Was detained at home by lame- 

ness. A. M. — A smart rain. 
Snow up country. 

2 10 Cleared up cold. Something of 

a freshet. 

3 11 Continued cold for the season. 

4 12 Weather much ye . My 

lameness increased. 

5 13 No news from Europe of import- 


14 Mr Foster* advenrt. 

7 15 Daughter Susan pept- 

1 10 Preached. Baptized Betty— of 

son Timothy Walker. 

2 17 A cold rain. Went to mill. 

Nath'l Eastman's house was 

3 18 Visited at Daughter Thomp- 


4 19 

5 20 A rainy day. 

21 Cleared up cold for the season. 
7 22 The nurse went away. 

1 23 Weather moderated. Preached. 

After meeting Sam'l Davis 
and wife owned ye covenant. 
Baptized Robert "and Berty. 
children of do. In ye evening 
tuned up very cold. 

2 24 Continued very cold for ye sea- 


3 25 Weather a little moderated. 

4 20 A continental fast. Preached. 

*Rev. Abi 1 Faster, pastor of Canterbury 
church from 1701 to 177a. 









Mato. Juuxi- Moses Kimball 
and Hannah Chase, both of 


Heard the good news fr im • 
Roach* yt ye Regulars 5. i<i 

raised the siege of t 'ha '.• ■■ 



Weather moderated much. 

S. C, with considerable 1 



This week's news gives ace't of 
a large French Heel arrived at 
Charleston^ S. C. Was not 



Had a small, refreshing •' . 
and another in ye night folio*, 

attacked ye 7th insfc. 



Preached : appointed th< 



Fleasant v. eatiier ends ye month. 
Preached, Propounded ye 

ment. Baptized Susanna 
of Jacob ( 'arter and 1 1 
— of Joshua Chnndler. 




Son Time, set out for Woburu. 


■count of marriages in April. 



Warm-, dry weather. 



Moses Kimball and Hannah 
Chase, both of Concord. 



Tarried at home almost alone. 




•omit of marriages: in May. 

May has 31 days. 

John Chandler Of Boseawen 



A cold rain, but moderate. 

andEmma Farnum of Concoi d. 



Do. The freshet rose, but not 

Jurae has T50 days. 



Cleared up but cold for ve season. 



Dined at Mr. Harris's with Mr. 




Hunt. Matrio juuxi Hani- 1 



The first, warm day for some 
time. Visited at Daughter 

Flood . of Wear and Sarah 
Kimball of Concord. 




Visited at daughter Judith's. 



A pleasant day. Post brought 
ye ace't of ye arrival of }~e — . 



Son Timothy returned from 
Woburu. N. B. On the evening 



Preached. Sac m - 

of the 2d was some frost but 



Raiued a little. Catched a vio- 
lent eold. In ye night was 

did no harm in this neighbor- 

taken with a violent ague fit, 



Preached. Administered ye Sac- 

with vomiting-. 




Was so weak I could scarcely 



Weather moderated. 

walk. P. M.— Catched a bad 



Continues warm pleasant weatl ■ 

fall down stairs. 

Visited at daughter Thomp- 



Grew better. A very warm, 


pleasant day. 



Pained moderately most of ye 



Turned up eold for the season. 




Weather continued cold for ye 



Cleared up cool. A light fr.« -:. 

season. Mr. Smith of Dart- 



Mr. Kelly advenit. f Dined ai 

mouth College advenit. 

Mr. Ki in ball's. 



Weather moderated. Planted 



Warm and some signs of rain. 

my first beans, viz: 8 rows. 



Preached all day. 



Preached all day. 



Nothi 1 1 g re ma rkable . 



Weather continued warm. 



Capt — from Newbury j 



Planted 9 hills of squashes. 9 of 
cucumbers, and* rows of beans, 

bro't acct. yt ye siege o! 
Charleston was raised.; 

whereof 1 and about I were Mr. 



Mr Xath'l Rogers arrived. 

Kimball's sort. 



A moderate ram. Sat out abo-a 



Warm, pleasant weather. 

140 cabbage plants. 
Cleared up. There was but 



Began to plant Indian corn. 




A remarkable dark day although 

little rain. 
Something cloudy. Sat cut U 

the clouds appeared thin. 





Finished planting Indian corn. 

cabbage plants. 

Ye Post not arrived. The 



Preached both parts of ye a 

reason not known. 



Sat out 150 cabbage plants. 



Preached all day. Began to 



Some signs of rain. 

complain of ye drowth. 



In ye night past we. had a » 





Continued warm and dry. 

Saw Capt Mitchell from Amos- 




,7ohn Roaeh, a native of Cork, f 

co tr °"in.* 


<• to 

oucord about 1776. lie was a < 



Visited at daughter Thompson's. 



r andlivedat Southend of Main '" 

l r; ■. 


to h 

William Kelly minister of W ■ '■ • 



Etumford, on the Androscoggin river in Maine, 


ely Bettled by Concord people. 



12, 17*0 



W. M. 

5 22 Cleared up pretty cool. Heard 

the news that Charleston, S. C. 
was taken. 

6 23 Warm, growing weather. 

7 34 Sat out 9ome cabbage plants. 

1 25 Preached, Baptized Robert— 

Of Daniel Hal!. 

2 26 Mr. Woodman* and wife advenit. 

3 27 Visited at Dr. Green's. 

-I 2S A line rain. Mr. Ricef advenit. 

5 :-'.' Continued raining. 

6 30 Reared the French fleet had got 

possession of Halifax. Finish- 
ed setting out cabbage plants. 
Sat in ye whole about 500 or 
600. N. B. Agreed with ye 
Post Rider for half a year's 
newspapers, beginning ye 2S of 
June and to end ye 21 of De- 

Account of marriages in -June. 
1 D. Daniel Fined of Wear and Sarah 
Kimball, Concord. 

.Inly has 3 J days. 

7 1 Cleared up warm after a beauti- 

ful rain which has mended the 
prospect of hay. very much. 

1 2 Preached. Baptized Sarah — of 

Stephen Abbot. 

2 3 A fine shower. 

3 4 Sat out for ECenniker council. 

Dined at' Mr. Fletcher's.! 
Lodged at Capt Plow's. 

4 5 Met ye other members of ye 

council at Mr. Rice's. 

6 Prevailed with ye. contending 

parties to submit their matter 
to a mutual council. Return- 
ed home. 

A very hot day. 

Mr. Hutchinson dined with me. 

Preached. Baptized Jenny — 
of Asa Kimball. 

Began to mow. 

Cloudy. Rained a little. 

Raked our hay, yt was mowed 

Carted 3 loads of hay. 

Carted 4 loads of hay. 

Cloudy. Siams of rain. Carted 
3 loads of hay. Sally Walkerjj 
returned from Woburn and 
brought news of ye arrival 
of ye French fleet at Newport. 

1 16 Preached. Propounded Stephen 

Hall and wife to own ye cover- 



















W. M. 

2 17 Carted in ye last of clover, mak- 

ina: 15 loads in ve whole. 

3 18 A.M. .V moderate rain. P.M. 

cleared up. 

4 in A srood hay da v. 

5 20 Visited at Mr. Harris's. 

G 21 A cool morning, but a pleasant 

1 23 

named good hay weather. 
ached. Remained fair weath- 

* Rev. Joseph Woodman the minister of San- 
born!o:i from 1771 to lSOO. 

f Rev. .Jacob Rice minister of Ilennikcr from 
ITO'.mo 1782. 

t Rev. Klijah Fletcher, minister of Hopkinton 
from 1773 to 17*6. 
1! Afterwards Mrs. Mnjor Daniel Livcrmore. 

2 21 Do. 

3 25 Do. A small shower in ye after- 


4 20 Have had 3 or 4 of the hottest 

days this season. 

5 27 Weather grew a little cooler. 
G 2S Weather grew hot again. 

7 20 Do. 

1 30 .Preached. Propounded the 

sacrament. Stephen Hall's 
wife owned ye covernant. 
Baptized Daniel— of Ezra 
Carter and Moses— of Steph- 
en Hall. 

2 31 Visited at daughter Thompson's. 

Xo marriages this month. 

Angust has 31 days. 

3 1 A very warm d'av. 

4 2 Do. P.M. A smart thunder 


5 [ 3 Began to reap winter rye. 

G 4 Very hot. In ye evening a show- 
.7 5 Carted 12 shocks of winter rye. 
P. M. A small thunder show- 
?1 G Preached. Sac. celt. Baptized 
i.T.3 Amos— of Mr. Cad eh Chase. 

2 7 Went on with reaping our rye. 

3 8 Weather very hot about three 


4 9 Nothing remarkable. 

5 10 Finished winter rye harvest. 

Had about 51 shocks. 

6 11 Weather extreme hot. 

7 12 Mr. Rawson advenit. 

1 13 Mr. Rawson preached ^ov me. 

2 14 Visited at Esq. Green's. Finish- 

ed summer rye harvest, ahout 
— shocks. Also stacked our 

3 15 Continued very hot weather. 

4 10 There has been 5 or G extreme 

hot days. 

5 17 Matro- junx 5 - John Straw and 

Mary Emerson, both of Con- 

G 18 A very plentiful rain. 

7 10 Post bro't news of a great mob 
in London. 

1 20 Preached. Weather changed 
from extreme hot to very cold 
for ve season. 









Began to reap my Syberian 
wh< at. 



Married William Walker and 
Pun ice Stevens, both of 



Finished reaping and carting ye 
Syberian wheat, viz : 32 shocks. 

Concord, Made one bar- 
rel of cider. Philip Abhor 



Extreme Ik t. 

spread his flax. 


Continued ye same. 



Nothing remarkable. 



The air was cooled by a pleas- 
ant breeze. 



_. Mr. Fletcher adve- 




Helped Dr. Goss cart his hay. 



Nothing remarkable. 



Preached. Admitted Nathan 
Kinsman and wife to full 



Preached and propounded ye 

c mimunion. 



Pleasant weather. 



Our Amoscoggin meeting was 
adjourned to ye 8 of Sept. 



Philip spread his flax. Mr. 
Welch advt- 




A plea sunt day. 



Son Timothy sat out for Exeter. 



Went out to Bow and married 



Finished haying. Ye weather 
changed to cold for ye season 

John Bavlev of Dunbarton 
and Margaret Hall of Bow. 

There has been a long spell o; 



Philip Abbott our flax. 

very hot weather. 



A pleasant day ends ye month. 



Rained a little X. P> 


22d inst. Stmt £200 by ye 


ant of marriages in September. 

Post to Henry Gardner. Esq. 



Moses Haeket and Keziah Ladd, 

for taxes for Wateribrd. 2 ! 

both of Goffes Town. 

Sept. Post bro't me Mr. Gard 



Nathan Holt and Sarah 

ner's letter yt he hud received 

Thompson, both of Bow. 

ye £200, which letter son Tim- 



Y\dll"i. Walker and Eunice 

othy has in keeping. 

Stevens, both of Concord. 




John Bavlev of Dunbarton and 

Account of marriages in August. 

Margaret Hall of Bow. 



John Straw and Mary Emerson 

both of Concord. 

October !;as 31 days. 

SrptcHibex - h;i; 30 days. 



Pieaehed. Administered ye sac- 



Pained somewhat. 

rament. Baptized Ebenezer 



Continued rainy weather. 

■ — of John Farnum. and Naomi 



A pretty rainy day. Preached. 
Administered ye sacrament. 

— of Kphraim Farnum, Jun- 



Visited at Daughter Rolfc's. 



Went to Inlander's mill with a 



Began picking peas. 




Heard ye news of ye reinforce- 



Tarried at home. 

ment of ye French fleet. 



Tucker gathered the corn upon 



Mati'o- junx-- Moses Racket 

Cog-swell's* lot. 

and Keziah Ladd, both oJ 



Took up our 'lax. 




Finished picking apples. 



Messrs. Sterns* Merril 

dined here. 



Princef plowed at Hale's point 
for winter rye. 



Post brought little news. 



Preached all day. 

Spread our flax. 


Nothing extraordinary. 





Visited Daughter Cuss. 



Visited with Daughter Thomp- 
son at Dr. Goss's. 



Sowed 4 bushels winter rye at 

Hale's Point. + 


3 2 

Nothing remarkable. 



Married Nathan Holt and Sarah 



■>cond lot in the Wat em urn mo n's field. 

Thompson, both of Bow. 


Prince was a ne^ro slave of Mr. Walker's 



Our Ammoscoggin -sat 


ght .1 

uly 10, 1701, as appears by following bill 


jf .- 

ale, viz : 



Pleasant weather. 


>r va 

" Wobura, July 10, 17.31. 
ue received I have this dav sold to 3tr. 



The post brought no extraordi- 


01 hy 

Walker a negro bo .', named Prince, which 

nary news. 

i Ik 

vi- owned for sometime past. 



Mr. Fessenden preached for me. 




Went up to Chandler's mill 



- Point, ;<^ may be seen bv consulting the 



iof t! 

e ('one >rd interval, found in the records 



Visited at Mr. Harris's. 

■ >f t 

lie pr 

iprietors, and al>o in Bou ton's History 

■)f CO! 

d, page 125, iva< in 1780 on the «"e.-*t side 
'rriiuaek river. It i< now upon the east 
g beeu cut off by a freshet in January, 



I-osiuh Stearns, mini ter of Epping, from 



}7C>5 10 15 










Married Bruce Walker and Me- 
hitabel Courier, both of Con 



A light snow yt part covered ye 




Cleared up moderate. 


Rained moderately. 



Continued pleasant weather. 



Visited Mr. Hunt at Mr. Har- 










Preached. Baptized Betty — of 
Xath'l Curiier. 



A. M. Sat out for llopkinton. 
Ye weather mist}'. P. si. 



Rained, and as we hear, snow up 

Rained moderate. 

counrn . 



Preached at llopkinton. Mr, 



Went on with Indian Harvest. 

Fletcher preached for me. 



Began making cider. Made G 
barrels and •>.. 

A.M. P. M. Mr. Ward.* The 
most plentiful rain we have 



Made 3 barrels water cider. 

had for a long time. En ye 



The town was assembled to 

evening went to Capt. Page's. 

raise, men to resist ye enemy 



A pleasant day. Returned 

at Cowos. 




Finished making cider, having 
made 13 barrels eider and up- 



Do. The frost near out of ye 

wards of 5 of water cider. 



Fell a snow about 6 inches deep. 



Preached. Baptized Hetty — of 
Majr- Jonathan Hale. 



Cleared up moderate. Visited 
at Mr. Harris's. 



Visited at Daughter Thomp- 



Moderate weather. 




A considerable rain. 



Finished gathering corn. 



Preached all day. 



Finished hulking. 



Married Tappau Evans of War- 



Visited at Mr. Harris's. 



ner and Abigail .Merrill of 



Visited at Daughter Goss's. A 


remarkable eclipse of the sun 



The post arrived, bro't the good 

about noon. 

news of the arrival of ye 



Mr. Fletcher advenit in his way 


French fleet off Georgia, 

to Canterbury. 



A summer-like day. Dug 10 



Ye most plentiful rain we have 



bushels of parsnips. Had dug 

had for a long time. Preached 

S before. 

all day. 



Cloudy, dull weather ends ye 



Went to Flanders' mill and to ye 





Went again to Flanders' mill. 


account of marriages in November. 




Alexander Simpson of Wenham 

Account of Marriages in October. 

and Molly Rogers of Bow. 



Bruce Walker and Mehitabel 
Courier, both of Concord. 



Jonathan Runnells and Dorothy 
Dimond. both of Concord. 



Tappan Evans of Warner and 

November has 30 day-. 

Abigail Merrill of Concord. 



A cold snow storm. Snow fell 
about two inches. 

December has 31 days. 


Cleared up cold for ye season. 



A severe cold day begins ye 



Continued cold. 




The post brought no remarkable 



Continues very cold. Weather 
much ye same. 



Preached. Baptized John Buck- 



Preached all day. 

lee — of Peter Green, Esq. 



Visited down in town. 



Continued cold. 



Weather xevy cold. 



Married Alexander Simpson of 



Nothing remarkable. 

Wcnham and Molly Rogers of 



A continental animal Thanksgiv- 





Returned home from Bow. 



Worked upon my bridge. 



Married Jonathan Runnells and 



Signs of foul weather. 

Dorothy Dimon, both of Con- 



A soaking rain. Preached all 

con 1. 




Continued cold. 



Nothing remarkable.. 



Post bro't considerable news 
both from ye Southward and 



Visited at Daughter Judith 


from Europe. 
Preached A. M. P. M. Mr. 




Nathan Ward, minister of Plymouth fi otn 

Sweat preached. 


to 1J 





















j W. M. 

Visited at Daughter Thomp- 22 Very cold wen the 
son"? and Major lljtde's. | 7 2^> A moderate s««w 

Married Timothy Hall of Con- j 
cord and Anna Foster of Bow. 

The post culled here in his way 

to Boston, 

Mr. Allen with one hand called 

Preached. Baptized Hubbard 
Carter — of Daniel Gale. 

Wrote a petition to have oar in- 
corporation mended. 

A raiiiV day. Visited at Capt. 

A cold day. 

Visited at Mr. Harris's. 

1 24- Continued snowing a little. 

2 25 Snow till about one Coot deep. 

3 2G Cleared up cold. Snow drifted. 

4 27 Continued cold and windy. 

5 2S West shod our oxen. 

6 29 'Idie fi;\-t day of ye teams haul- 

ing wood out ye woods. 

7 3) Continued cold but not windy. 

1 31 Weather moderate. Preached 
all day. 

Account of marriages in December. 
14 D. Timo. Hall of Concord and Anna 
Foster of Bow. 



As some of the matter in the follow- 
ing article may be new to many of the 
readers of the present day, I have, at 
the request of one of our historians., 
prepared it for publication. 

It is well known to all that slavery 
existed in New Hampshire, to a lim- 
ited extent, in the last century : the 
number of persons held in bondage, 
however, was small, and nearly two 
thirds in Rockingham county. I find 
no record of its having been abolished 
by state law, and conclude that it died 
out gradually in obedience to public 
sentiment.. By the census returns of 
1767, the number of " Negros and 
slaves for life" was 633; in 1773, 
68 1. The number then gradually de- 
creased to 479 in 1775, and to 15S in 
1790; of the latter, 98 were in Rock- 
ingham county. 

In 1779 an attempt was made to 
abolish the institution ; a petition was 
drawn up in Portsmouth, dated Nov. 
1?, 1779, to which was appended the 
names of 20 slaves asking for the en- 
actment of a law giving them their 
freedom. The petition is written in a 
plain, fair hand ; but, although I have 
become familiar with the writing of 
many of the public men of those times, 
by my labors among the old papers in 

the state house during the past two 
years, I am unable to say whose it is, 
much to my regret. Thinking the 
document of interest, I will give it en- 
tire, as follows : 

r ' State of New Hampshire. 

To the Honorable, the Council and 
House of Representatives of said state, 
now sitting at Exeter in and for said 
state : 

The petition of the subscribers, na- 
tives of Africa, now forcibly detained 
in slavery in said state most humbly 
sheweth, That the God of nature gave 
them life and freedom, upon the terms 
of the most perfect equality with other 
men , That freedom is an inherent 
right of the human species, not to be 
surrendered, bat by consent, for the 
sake of social life ; That private or pub- 
lic tyranny and slavery are alike detes- 
table to minds conscious of the equal 
dignity of human nature ; That in pow- 
er and authority of individuals, derived 
solely from a principle of coertion, 
against the will of individuals, and to 
dispose of their persons and proper- 
tics, consists the completest idea of 
private and political slavery ; That all 
men being a men i able to the Deity for 
the ill-improvement of the blessings ot 



His Providence, they hold themselves 
in duty bound strenuously to exert 
L\cry faculty of their minds to obtain 

that blessing of freedom, which they 
are justly entitled to from that donation 

of the beneficent Creator ; That 
through ignorance and brutish violence 
oi their native countrymen, and by the 
sinister designs of others ( who ought 
to have taught them better), and by j 
the avarice of both, they, while but 
children, and incapable of self-defence, j 
whose infancy might have prompted j 
protection, were seized, imprisoned, 
and transported from their native coun- 
try, where ( though ignorance and in- 
chrtstianity prevailed) they were born 
free, to a country, where ( though 
knowledge. Christianity and freedom 
are their boast) they are compelled 
and their posterity to drag on their 
lives in miserable servitude: Thus, 
often is the parent's cheek wet for the 
loss of a child, torn by the cruel hand 
of violence from her aching bosom ; 
Thus, often and in vain is the infant's 
sigh for the nurturing care of its be- 
reaved parent, and thus do the ties of 
nature and blood become victims to 
cherish the vanity and luxury of a fel- 
low mortal. Can this be right? For- 
bid it gracious Heaven. 

Permit again your humble slaves to 
lay before this honorable assembly 
some of those grievances which they 
daily experience and fc^l. Though 
fortune hath dealt out our portion with 
rugged hand, yet bath she smiled in 
the disposal of our persons to those 
who claim us as their property ; of them 
we do not complain, but from what 
authority they assume the power to dis- 
pose of our lives, freedom and proper- 
ty, we would wish to know. Is it from 
the sacred volume of Christianity? 
There we believe it is not to be found ; 
but here hath the cruel hand of slavery 
made us incompetent judges, hence 
knowledge is hid from our minds. Is 
it from the volumes of the laws? Of 
these ?lso slaves cannot be judges, but 
tho=e we are told arc founded on rea- 
son and justice ; it cannot be found 
there. Is it from the volumes of na- 
ture? No, here wc can read with oth- | 

ers, of this knowledge, slavery cannot 
wholly deprive us ; here wc know that 
we ought to be free agents : here we 
feel the dignity of human nature ; here 
we feel the passions and desires of 
men, though checked by the rod of 
slavery ; here we feel a just equality ; 
here we know that the God of nature 
made us free. Is their authority as- 
sumed from custom? If so let that 
custom he abolished, which is not 
founded in nature, reason nor religion, 
should the humanity and benevolence 
of this honorable assembly restore us 
that state of liberty of which we have 
been so long deprived, we conceive 
that those who are -our present masters 
will not be sufferers by our liberation, 
as we have most of us spent our whole 
strength and the prime of our lives in 
their service ; and as freedom inspires 
a noble confidence and gives the mind 
an emulation to vie in the noblest ef- 
forts of enterprise, and as justice and 
humanity are the result of your delib- 
erations, we fondly hope that the eye 
of pity and the heart of justice may 
commiserate our situation, and put us 
upon the equality of freemen, and give 
us an opportunity of evincing to the 
world our love of freedom by exerting 
ourselves in her cause, in opposing the 
efforts of tyranny and oppression over 
the country in which we ourselves have 
been so long injuriously enslaved. 

Therefore, Your humble slaves most 
devoutly pray for the sake of injured 
liberty, for the sake of justice, hu- 
manity and the rights of mankind, for 
the honor of religion and by all that is 
dear, that your honors would gracious- 
ly interpose in our behalf, and enact 
such laws and regulations, as you in 
in your wisdom think proper, whereby 
we may regain our liberty and be 
ranked in the class of fi'cc agents, and 
that the name of slave may not more 
be heard in a land gloriously contend- 
ing for the sweets of freedom. And 
your humble slaves as in duty bound 
will ever pray. 

Portsmouth Nov. i2, 1779. 

Nero Brewster. Pharaoh Rogers, 
Romeo Rindge, Seneca Hail, Cato 
New-march, Peter Warner, Cesat Ger- 



rish, Pharaoh Shores, Zebu Ion Gardner, 
Winsor Moffatt, Quam Sherburne, 
Garrett Gotten, Samuel Wentworth, 
Kittridge Tuckerman, Will Clarkson, 
Peter Frost, Jack Odiorne, Prince Whip- 
ple, Cipio Hubbard." 

This petition was before the House 
of Representatives, April 25, 1780, 
and a hearing appointed to come off 
at their next session, of which the pe- 
titioners were to give notice by publi- 
cation in the New Hampshire Gazette. 
John Langdon was at that time speak- 
er of the House. The council con- 
curred. The matter came up in the 
House again on Friday, June 9th, fol- 

lowing, and was disposed of as will be 

seen by the following extract from the 

"Agreable to order of the day the 
petition of Nero Brewster and others, 
negro slaves, praying to be set free 
from slavery, being read, considered 
and argued by counsel for petitioners 
before this House, it appears to this 
House that at this time the House is 
not ripe for a determination in this 
matter ; Therefore, ordered that the 
further consideration and determina- 
tion of the matter be postponed to a 
more convenient opportunity." 

And that, so far as I can ascertain, 
was the end of it. 


Miranda Tullock, daughter of Ahira 
and Elizabeth Pillsbury Barney, was 
born in Grafton, New Hampshire, De- 
cember 18, 1S35. 

Three brothers by the name of Bar- 
ney came to this country from Wales. 
England ; one settled in Rhode Island, 
one in the state of New York, the oth- 
er died, shortly after this arrival. Aar- 
on Barney, the great, great grandfather 
of the subject of this sketch, removed 
from Rhode Island and located at 
Grafton, N. H. Pie, with five other 
persons, bought the entire township of 
Grafton, and subsequently purchased 
for himself three thousand acres of 
land situate on the south side of the 
town. His eldest son, Jarez, was Mrs. 
Tullock's great grandfather. Jarez's 
eldest son, Jacob, was her grandfather. 
Pie was the first child born in Grafton. 
Jacob's eldest son, Ahira, was her fath- 
er. The descendants of Aaron Barney 
are numerous, several of whom reside 
in Grafton county, and are worthy and 
substantial citizens. 

Miss Barney received a liberal edu- 
cation, studying at the Fisherville, An- 
dover and Canaan, N. H., academies, 

and finishing with an accomplished 
French teacher, Madame Ledoux, at 
Saint Marie, Canada East. She was 
occasionally engaged in teaching in 
New Hampshire lrom 1S50 to 1856. 
March 12, 1857 she was married to 
Charles R. Swam of Belmont, N. PI., 
who died January 13, 1862. Their 
only child, Lena Belle, died at Pitts- 
field, N. H., March 24, 1S61, aged 7 
months, 24 days. 

Being deeply interested in our coun- 
try's cause, in its hour of great need, 
Mrs. Swain volunteered her services to 
the New Hampshire Soldiers' Aid 
Association, and left for Washington, 
D. C, in March, 1863, and labored 
earnestly to alleviate suffering among 
the sick and wounded until July, 1S65, 
when the completion of the war 
brought her work to a close. Her 
time was chiefly employed in the hos- 
pitals at Washington and Alexandria, 
frequently visiting those more remote, 
and spending much time with the 
wretchedly debilitated and pitiable 
exchanged prisoners, who, upon their 
release from Southern prisons, were 
landed at Annapolis, Maryland. It 



was frequently her mission to minister 
kind offices to the dying, to listen to 
their last messages, and whisper words 
o( consolation, as their hearts yearned 
for home and kindred, but never did 
she hear a regret that their lives had 
been given that the 'nation might live. 
The last fifteen months were diligent!) 
and judiciously improved in the office 
of the New Hampshire state agency at 
Washington, of which she had charge. 
Becoming thoroughly familiar with the 
complication of army regulations, she 
rendered invaluable aid in assisting 
soldiers in obtaining their pay, bounties 
and transportation, in communicating 
with their friends, in sending home the 
bodies of our dead heroes, in forward- 
ing hospital supplies, in regularly re- 
parting to the state authorities the con- 
dition of each soldier belonging to 
New Hampshire regiments in her de- 
partment, in searching out New Hamp- 
shire soldiers, and in forwarding letters 
to them fr^m anxious friends. To-day 
she was by the bedside of a dying 
patriot, administering to his relief and 
speaking words of comfort and hope ; 
to-morrow, aiding with skilful hands 
at a painful surgical operation, because 
the sufferer wanted her present ; the 
day after, on the battlefield after a 
severe engagement, among the fore- 
most in relieving the suffering and con- 
soling the dying, often denying herself 
both food and rest, while assiduously 
employed in her divine mission. In 


and all other grood works, ben- 

eficial to the soldier, she bravely, un- 
ceasingly, humanely and unselfishly 
devoted all her energies of mind and 
body, during many long months. In 
1864, she was offered an appointment 
by the Connecticut state agent who 
had been cognizant of her admirable 
management while in the service of 
her native state, which offer was de- 
clined. Her modesty has prevented 
her record from appearing among the 
" Women of the War," she having in- 
variably declined to furnish the neces- 

sary material and is particularly averse 
to any public use of her name ; but 
unbeknown to her a friend makes this 
contribution to the rare merit of one 
of the the true, patriotic and devoted 
women of an eventful period of our 
nation's history. 

All honor to the noble women of the 
war ! It is befitting that their deeds 
be represented. They cannot ali be 
known to fame, but there are living 
soldiers in whose breasts this record 
will awaken a responsive chord ; while 
from their heavenly home many de- 
parted call them blessed. 

January 10. 1S66, Mrs. Swain was 
married at the house o( Hon. Matthew 
G. Emery at Washington, D. C, to 
Hon. Thorn is L. Tullock of Ports- 
mouth, N. H., now residing at Wash- 

Possessing remarkable fortitude and 
nerve, blended with great delicacy and 
tenderness, her sympathetic nature 
leads her to the relief of suffering hu- 
manity, and she is now actively con- 
nected with several societies in many 
works of char ty and benevolence, par- 
ticularly, "The Washington Training 
School for Nurses," of which she was 
one of the incorporators : and as a 
trustee, and one of its vice-presidents, 
she devotes much lime to the lauda- 
ble work. The object of the society 
is to educate skilled nurses for hospi- 
tals, and care of the sick at their own 
homes, which is obtained by means of 
lectures by eminent physicians, by oral 
instruction in the rudiments of medi- 
cine and hygiene, and by hospital at- 
tendance. As a member of the " Prov- 
ident Aid Society,' 1 established (or the 
relief of the poor, as president of the 
" Ladies' Association" of the Metro- 
politan M. E. Church, as a member of 
"The Women's Foreign Missionary 
Society," and in other works of charity 
and mercy she is continually evincing 
those estimable traits which have thus 
always characterized her. 

I 12 





Frances, pale from fright, disengag- 
ed herself from my embrace and ad- I 
van-ced a few steps. As for me I stood | 
as if struck by lightning. The person j 
who had uttered this impudent speech, 
and who doubtless had been watching 
us for sometime, was an old peasant '' 
woman who made me think of the witch- | 
es of Macbeth. Her black eyes, her 
bare arms, bony and red like a lobster, 
her wrinkled and tanned countenance. 
her blue striped handkerchief tied j 
around her white hat, the stick 
on which she leaned, all recalled 
the type of the fairy Carabasse 
who with a stroke of her wand >. 
changes the terestrial paradise 
into a lodging in hell. She came bold- 
ly forward towards Frances. 

"Now, Miss, I see plainly what keeps 
you back and why it is that for weeks you 
have not been to see the child once." 

"My grandfather has been sick. 
Mother Jool." 

" Good ; sickness of the rich, 
no great evil in that ; but the young 
man here he is not sick, he, he? I 
assure you the whole village is talking 
about it." 

"About what, Mother Jool?" 
said Frances haughtily. 

"About your neglecting the child." 

''Listen, Mother Jool, neither you nor 
the village have anything to do with 
my affairs." 

"Hum ; the month is past, in a week 
the second comes, and when Tuneke 
is tired, it is not good for the brat." 

"To-morrow you shall have 
your money; but I declare to 
you that if for its being a week 
late the child is maltreated by 
you or your daughter he shall not re- 
main with you. To-morrow or day after 
to-morrow I will go and see for myself, 
count on that." 


| u Ah ! you will take the brat 
' away from us? Try it once ! we 
shall see who will be the stronger. 
That is what it is to give oneself trouble 
for great folks." 

"You have not done yourself 
any wrong, Mother Jool, you have 
simply wanted to bear part of the 
misfortune of your daughter." 

"I came to tell you that he needs shoes 

and stockings, else he will run about 

with bare feet in his wooden shoes. 

ittle peasant." 

will see to it, 

:e a 
" 1 

Mother Jool ; 
but now go your way, that is 
the rath that leads to your village." 

" You are very much in a hurry to 
have me go?" 

"We are here on the Werve 

id. do you hear? go away or else — " 

•'L:rd of my life ! how anxious you 
are to see me go, and because— well, 
well I am off. I really believe that this 
ftne coxcomb would lay his hands on 
me*' — and she went grumbling away 
by toe path pointed out to her. 

F:.-o:cs turned towards me, — "Well 
Leopold/' she said to me, "you are 
served as you wanted to be; there 
:s the power which is opposed to 
hiy bar*"Dines5. n 

i; I iirod erstand," said I, depressed 
by r±e discovery which I believed 
I hi a o:ode, and wretched beyond 
ail expression-, " J understand 
Frances. ' : a are too loyal to unite •< 
man :: • our life, charged with such •' 
heaw burden; but why not sooner 
ha e : : : f 3ed tome this terrible secrei 
I wen i save done the impossible *■' 

"•Ec: Leopold, what are you thinkis 

of?" ■: . smd to me blushing wit' 
emc? :~ ! *you surely do not accu>' 
ce; — : . understand, do you »• [ 
:"-. : ; - ;:_;.: is not at mull there, < v - 
- : ; rodure the deplorable ■ con • 
: . - ; .:.. fault." 



Frances ; but — excuse 
not very well under- 
stand you, was it not about a 
child which you must t ike care of?" 

'•Certainly, and that is not the least 
burden. • I have the mother also on 
my hands." 


m e , 

But now it 
understand you. 

is I 

vants of an 

who do not 
she continued with 
an adorable naivete. "Is it then 
a light burden for me, in the 
situation you know, to bring up a 
and to provide for the 
insane mother?" 

Great God, if she had divined 
the conclusion which I had drawn 
from the words and manners of 
the old witch ! 

" It is the fatal result of my 
headstrong rashness with poor 
Harry Blount," she continued. "You 
know how and by whose fault he died. 
He was carried almost dying into the 
hut in which this Mother Jooi and her 
daughter lived. In my despair I repeat- 
ted without cessation : *I have killed 
him.' I then learned another tiring. 
Blount was secretly the lover of jool's 
daughter ; he had promised to marry 
her and she was soon to be a mother. 
The unfortunate girl was out of her 
head with grief. Harry could only say 
to me these few words : 'Have pity 
on my poor girl.' I solemnly promised 
him that I would take care of her and 
I have kept my word. The mother 
was and always is a miserable woman ; 
she had herself thrown her daughter 
into the arms of Blount, whom she 
considered as a brilliant match. She 
wished to force him to marry her. 
Frustrated in her hope, she spread 
abroad my cries of grief, and succeed- 
ed so well with her infernal tongue 
that I was seriously accused of having 
assasinated Blount. It even went so 
far that we were obliged to ask a 
magistrate of our acquaintance to take 
some measures to put an end to these 
calumnies. All that did not discharge 
my obligations towards the daughter. 
She had scarcely given birth to her 
child when the symptoms of her insan- 

ity appeared. The child could not be 
left with her. Mother Jool had anoth- 
er daughter married to a peasant in 
the village of — ,and who had just 
lost her child. I promised to pay month- 
ly for the nursing of the child ; I had 
already furnished the clothes ; then I 
must see to the poor insane woman. 
In truth, had it not been for my meet- 
ing with Aunt Roselear, I -hould never 
have been able to meet so many expen- 
ses. Therefore .Mother Jool went to 
live with her children, on the pretext of 
taking care of the infant, but in reality 
so that she could the more easily work 
upon me. She always finds some 
means of getting money out of me. 
The child was weaned a long time ago, 

in their 

threatening to 

and ought not to remain 
hands. I am always 
take it away from them ; but, I confess, 
I recoil, until the present time, from 
all the comments which this change 
will provoke. His mother and he 
take the larger part of my income. My 
grandfather blames me and would like 
to have me devote my modest posses- 
sion to an entirely different use. Leo- 
pold, how would you like me to drag a 
man whom I love into such a whirlpool ?" 

''The man worthy to possess you, 
Frances, would not allow himself 
to be dragged, he would aid you to 
escape from it." 

"Impossible; I shall never abandon 
Harry Blount's child." 

"Nor should I advise you to. Be sure, 
I know how to put an end to Mother 
Jool. You must place the child at 
your farmers, who are good people. 
To-morrow I am going with you to O— -." 

"To throw yourself into this wasp's 

"I am not in the least afraid." 

"What a pity that this woman watched 
us all this time." 

" When she sees us together 
to-morrow, she will understand that it 
is useless to watch us." 

"But she will fill the country with 
wicked speeches in regard to us." 

" Well ; she will say that we are 
in love. Is it not true, Frances?" 
said I, gently taking her hand, which 
she left in mine. 

1 14 


"You come back to that, even after you 
know all !" she murmured, "but you 
don't reckon, Leopold, on all the 
bin Jen which will weigh you down ; 
Rolfe, whom we cannot send away, my 
grandfather with his needs — and ins 
misery. Ah ! yes. you are going to 
return to the Hague to make your 
peaee with the minister. Don't do 
that for me, you have yourself said 
that it would be cowardly." 

" Calm yourself, Frances ; I may 
pardon my uncle, but f shall nev- 
er speculate on any reconciliation 
with him. But whv all these dim 


Do von not understand. 

Frances, that I love you. that dur- 
ing all these past qavs I have repressed 
my sentiments with an energy that 1 did 
not believe myself capable of, that 
now I have told you ail, and that i 
shall say good bye to you forever, or 
else receive iroin you the assurance 
that you accept me lor your husband? 
I wish it, Frances. 1 wish it with a 
firmness of will that laughs at all your 

" Leopold," she began, " do not 
speak to me so. No one has ever 
spoken to me as you do. No one 
has ever loved me like you. You make 
me wild. And yet I ought to resist 
you. I do not wish to be an obstacle 
to your happiness, even when it costs 
me my own quiet." I took both her 
hands. "You persist? It may be — 
that I could still be happy." 

" Enough, Frances, you are mine : 
I will never leave you ; you are 
mine for life." 

'•For life," she repeated after me, 
turning so pale that 1 was afraid she 
was going to feint away. "Leopold, yes, 
I am yours, 1 have confidence in you, 
I love you as I never — never have 
loved," she said in a low tone. 

"At length," 1 exclaimed, and I seal- 
ed our oaths with a long kiss. 

It is needless to say that we arrived 
too late for the second breakfast ; it is 
true that we were not hungry. We 
came back slowly, almost silently, and 
we even slacked our steps as we drew 
near the castle. Frances, especially, 
seemed to have a repugnance to enter- 

ing. "I would like," said she, to sit 
a little while with you under this old 
oak, it seems to me that 1 am going to 
find all my misfortunes again, I do not 
like to separate myself so soon from 
my happiness — O, Leopold, 1 would 
like to rlee away with you, so that no 
one could put himself between us." 

"We shall flee away, my beloved, but 
first we must go through with certain 
formalities which will confer on us the 
right to go everywhere boldly." 

'•And then all those important peo- 
ple, with sugared smiles, will come to 
present their congratulations, when be- 
hind our backs they will make fun of 
him who dares to marry Major Frank." 

"On, that is a supposition which de- 
serves a punishment." And she was 
obliged to pay a forfeit in the form of 
a second kiss. 

"1 do not understand how people can 
treat lightly so serious a thing as mar- 
riage. Dots not the worn in especial- 
ly make an immeasurable sacrifice? 
Uocs she not sacrifice her name, her 
will, her person? Indeed, before I 
knew you, I used to consider such a 
sacrifice as impossible." 

''And now?" said 1, kneeling be- 
fore her on the moss, in order 
to see better her beautiful eyes, 
vvhich shone with happiness and 

" Now, I no longer have such 
objections," she replied, with a 
sweet smile ; "but I beg you, Leopold, 
do not remain any longer in this pos- 
ture before me. By so doing you 
commit a lie in action, for I foresee that 
thence forward it is you who will be 
lord and master. But let us go, my 
friend, they must be alarmed at the 
castle, for they do not know what can 
nave become of us." 

We reentered the castle, and to 
our great surprise found Rolfe and 
the general impatient to see us, 
but in very good humor. My great- 
uncle was turning over some 
papers and did not leave us time to 
announce to him, as was our intention, 
the grand decision vvhich Frances and 
I had just made. "Frances," he 
cried out showing her a letter "whv 



• you so long coming back when I 
such goo i news to tell you." 

"That i- just what I have, also, grand*- 

... ; but what makes pleased? 
vou are not by any means made the 

ir of aunt Roselaer?" 

almost comes to the same 
my child. Know that Aunt 
er's heir asks you to marry 
that he is obliged to l\o 
the will, and that his de- 
cannot cost your heart any- 


so by 


de Zonshoven. I had given my heart 
to a young man without fortune, whose 

uprightness and nobility of heart I 
loved, in whom. I believed as in myself 
and mure than in myself; but the in- 
j triguer who swallows up my aunt's for- 
! tune, and who to make sure of it, dis- 
i guises himself in order to surprise the 
I affections of a woman whom he has 
i been ordered to marry, this hypocrite, 
i this false sage, I refuse him, and I can 
| only give him — my contempt." 
! At first. I had wished to undeceive 


1 smiled, though I considered Over- | her, to lay before her eyes the reality ; 
berg and van Beckma-n too much in I this last word aroused me from my 
haste to inform the old baron of the 

true state of things. I had counted 
on giving Frances an agreeable sur- 
prise, myself. Frances left my arms 
and said in a firm voice to the gener- 
al, " 1 am sorry, grandfather, to dis- 
appoint you ; this gentleman comes 
too late, and I was just going to ask you 
to approve of the engagement I have 
just entered into with my cousin, Leo- 
pold de Zonshoven." 

"But so much the better, dear child, 
so much the better, for the heir of 
Miss Roselaer, your chosen husband 
and your cousin de Zonshoven are one 
and the same person." 

Frances drew herself up with an of- 
fended air, and looked me in the face, — 
"It is not true, is it, Leopold? It is 
not true? Say it is not true." 

" I should lie, Frances," I answered, 
"the result is simply that you 
have given your hand to a 
man whom . you have regarded as 
a poor young man, and who, like a 
prince in a fairy story, is transformed 
into a millionaire. Can this surprise 
be disagreeable to you?" 

Her eyes snapped, and in a tone in 
which anger, mingled with an expres- 
sion of poignant grief, she reproached 
me fur having put on a mask to de- 
ceive her good faith. " What ! You 
succeed in inspiring me with esteem 
ty giving proof of your proud dignity, 
elevated sentiments, and you pretend 
that I ani happy to learn that it is ail 
nothing but a comedy ! And it is a 
gentleman who acts in that manner 
towards me. You are deceived, Mr. 

| calm. "Take care, Fr.mces, I know 
| that you are violent ana that you often 
; regret the words which escape you in 
i your paroxysms ; but do not throw such 
I insults in the face of him whom you 
| have just accepted (or your husband, 
| which no one has ever addressed to 
j him, and which he will not receive 
I with impunity from any person what- 

'• Would any one say that I owe you 

j any excuses, you who have deceived 

| me, who have lied to me, who have 

| introduced yourself here as a spy, who 

| have pursued your base design to the 

very moment when you thought that I 

could no longer refuse you ? Once 

more, sir, you are deceived in my 

character. I never pardon an abuse 

of confidence." 

"I have not abused your confidence, 
Miss," I replied in a calmer voice, " I 
only wished to learn to know you, I 
wished to gain you affections before 
risking the avowal of my sentiments, 
that is all." 

"You have been false, I tell you. I 
do not any longer believe in your love. 
You came here to make what is called 
a good trade, to gain your million. 
It is true I have loved you, but such 
as you were, not such as I see you 
now. I do not leave the disposal of 
my hand' to any one, dead or living, 
and as to you, I refuse you — do you 
hear? I refuse you." With these ter- 


rible word 

I was, myself ob 

1 on a chair, pale as 
cd to lean on the 


ot a 

chair. My legs seemed to 



fail me. The good Rolfe retired to 
the other end of the room with tears in 
his eyes. The general, with anguish 
depicted on his face, trembled on the 
seat he could not leave. " Frances, 
Trances," said he, ''"do not let yourself 
be carried away so. Remember that 
the castle- is mortgaged to the last 
stone, that the last six months' interest 
is not paid, that if we sell it we can- 
not get the third part of the sum for 
which it is mortgaged, that we owe all 
to the generosity of Zonshoven. 
He is kind enough to offer to take 
Werve, with all its incumbrances, and to 
give me, in addition, an annuity which 
will guarantee the tranquility of my 
last days. But you must be his wife, 
or this fine plan vanishes in smoke. 
Do not then offend a man who wishes 
to do us so much good and who loves 
you as I have discovered all these late 
days. And we have not simply to deal 
with him. There is a will, an execu- 
tor, a prosecutor, — what mast 1 say to 
Mr. Qverburg?" 

"Write, grandfather, " said Frances, 

plied Fiances, "he sticks to his mill 
that is clear.'' 

"Frances," said beseechingly the 
ueral, "if you knew as I 



effort, " that Franc 

Mordaunt does not marry by testi- 
mentary disposition, that she will not 
sell herself for a million, nor for any 
other sum, and that she formally re- 
jects the offers of Mr. de Zonshoven." 

"And I," I replied, believing that 
Frances, when she had become calm- 
er and better informed, would certain- 
ly do me justice, but that it belonged 
to a character like hers not to yield 
for a moment to force, "I, who have 
your word, and do not give it up I beg 
the general to write to Mr. Overberg 
that Miss Mordaunt has promised her 
hand and that the transfer of castle 
Werve can be executed." 

" If I consent to it," added Frances, 
still pale and motionless. 

"Pardon me, Miss," 1 said to her, 
" your grandfather alone has the pow- 
er of disposing of this real estate, and as 
long as he lives, his will, by which he- 
has devised it to you, has no force. 
Write as I ask, general, you know too 
well what will be the consequences of 
any other decision." 

"He wishes you to write lies," re- 

do— you are offending a man of ex 
traordinary generosity, who can thr< 

us ah into the abyss, who only wish< s 
to rescue us, if only you will consenl 
to take the hand he holds out. Re- 
member that he can force us to sell 
the castle, if we do not let him have it 
by friendly agreement." 

"That is possible. It may be that 
he is able securely to acquire the 
power of driving tis away from Werve 
as beggars, but he cannot force me to 
marry him." 

"We shall see," I answered, proud- 

"You dare to speak to me of force, 
to me," she exclaimed, furious and ad- 
vancing towards me, "you, Leopold !" 
she added, in a tone of real sorrow. 

"Yes, Frances," said I, resolved to 
pursue my advantage, "you will sub- 
mit to a force, that of your conscience, 
which will tell you that you owe me 
satisfaction. 1 am going away. Try 
to reflect with more calmness. You 
have attacked my honor and wounded 
my heart. Do not let the blood flow 
too long for fear that it may become 

I cast on her a last look of affection- 
ate reproach. She seemed again 
insensible to ail. I shook the hand 
of the old baron, who wept like a 
child, and left the room. Rolfe fol- 
lowed and begged me not to leave the 
castle just yet. "Site is like that," he 
said to me, " in an hour from now she- 
will regret what she has said, I am 
sure. The storm is too violent to 

But my mind was made up. I went to 
my room and packed up, slowly, 1 
must say, and always listening to hear 
if any one was coming to knock at my 
door, as before. No one came. 

I was unhappy beyond expression. 
What ! The same woman, at whose feet 
I had been kneeling an hour before, and 
whose hands I had kissed with intoxi- 
cation, had sprung upon me like a 
fury and had repulsed me with con- 



ipt ! On reflecting on it, I must 
»s that I really ought to have 
proceeded more frankly with her. For 
a moment I had the notion of surrend- 
ering to her all my right to Aunt So- 
I hia'a fortune ; but that would only 
jias'C served to bring trouble on us all. 

I promised myself, olice at Z , to 

send her a full narrative of the affair 
an 1 my aunt's letter, which from deli- 
cacy I had kept to myself. I would 
add to it some words of explanation, 
and I did not doubt, that, having re- 
turned to a calmer disposition, she 
would finally do me justice. 

That was exactly what I did. But 
as these documents made a package 
too heavy for the mail, I entrust- 
ed them to a servant of the 
hotel, to give to the messenger who 
went every day to the castle. I flat- 
tered myself with a speedy and happy 

change. I passed the whole of the 
following day in a feverish excitement 
of waiting, and when night came with- 

1 out a messaj 

'hen after a sleepless 
night I saw the day roll away without 
any sign that my return to Werve was 
desired, I abandoned myself to the 
most complete discouragement. 1 had 
only one idea left, to do hastily at 
Z— — what I ought, so that all' the 
legal formalities should be completed, 
and to return as soon as possible to 
the Hague. I concealed from Over- 
berg my rupture with Frances. I told 
him pressing business called me home 
without delay. I signed ail the papers 
he offered to me, and took leave 
of him, promising to return as soon as 
possible. In truth, I do not feel well, 
I am anxious to be at home, to engage 
in my favorite occupations, I know not 
what weight oppresses me. 



A sound of drops, that rush and crowd, 

A tinkling on the pane. 
A dancing hubbub in the pools — 

Oh. ho. the autumn rain! 

The earth gives out a low. glad sound. 

The sad winds pipe in vain. 
They cannot bring a dismal thought 

So pleasant is the rain! 

The sky is gray, the land is brown. 

Each dead leaf is a stain — 
But you and I have magic arts 

That brighten all the rain ! 

No one can come ! Xo one can go 
Oh. sing your gayest strain! 

A whole, round day of happiness. 
Well guarded by the rain! 






Wrapt in pearly sheen, the ocean 

Mumber'd in ;i gentle moiion. 
No angry wave v\ith foa ny crest 
Roll'd o'er the sea s f ur. placid ore 
Anil from the earth the light of da} 
'MM streaks of goM had passed aw 
While, falling leaves, by Autumn's 1) 
Danced lightly to the dirge of deatl 
An. I lovely flowerets bowed an 1 fel 
As bleak November scoured th. j del 
Yet still, amid the fading scene. 
The rapture! soul might'treasures g 
And themes for thought profusely 
A uioonlic eve, how beautiful! 



1 : 


But there, amid the grandeur, stood 
A form whom sky, m>r fiefd, nor flood, 
Could ever charm, tho" bright and fair — 
Sad victim of insane despair. 

Full twenty summers o'er her flew 
Ere yet the death of Hope she knew, 
And then the deadly spoiler came. 
Smooth garnish'd with a lover's name; 
He '-loved sw - i Miry f -v h r sake. ' 5 
So falsely feign 1 :h '■-. odd l ss rake. ■ 
And she. the artless girl, believed 
With woman's faith, and was deceived; 
He whispered tales of changeless love. 
And she would trustingly approve; 
Her youthful heart enshrined the thought 
His love was true, nor doubted aught. 
How oft the cup of neetar'd bliss 
Hath less of gall and bitterness! 
For soon this ruthless Lo rilling left — 
Of all its bloom and beauty reft — 
That fair,, sweet, flower to pine and die. 
Accursed by his inconstancy. 

But he was of a titled kind. 
And she. the child of lowly hind. 
Her father's only child, whose bread 
And loved and dear tho" humble shed. 
Were held in feud of bin) whose name 
Had sunk their hopes in hopeless shame. 
Her mother's image! 1'ears agone. 
So like, and now to woman grown! 
Whose looks that, fathers heart would stir 
To sad remembrance oft, of her 
Who lived not lung to share his lot. 
Death took not all — his lowly cot 
Held yet one treasur ; which his heart; 
Couid cheer. 'Twer.; worse than death 
to part 

With this. But words can ne'er express 
The agonizing bitterness — 
The weight of woe — the dark despair 
i'hat. lather felt, when .d-1 his care. 
His watchings, fears and hopes were 

By wealth and lust; and home was turn'd 
To h dl.and life's last drop to gall. 
Oh God ! And con Id kis Mary fall ? 

But wealth has power, despite of ruth, 
Vo bear down justice, right and truth; 
And thus the ••'noble" spoiler felt. 
As injured virtue 'fore him knelt. 
He scorn'd the prayer of her whose fate 
His damning deed made desolate. 
And off he went with pomp and train, 
fo tight the bloody wars of Spain. 

Twas by the rocky shore I found her, 
With tatters of a mantle round her. 
All lonely, self-communing there— 
Xow gazing on the moonlit air. 
An I then, as starting from a sleep. 
Bow laughing to the mighty dee)). 
Proud Reason, murder \f on h^r throne, 
Expired, as with a parting groan 
She bade her loved domains' adieu, 
Thus captured bv a hellish crew — 
Black Phreuzy. fell Despair and Death. 
With all that 'mental ruin hath! 
Anon a burst of horrid mirth 
Upon her pallid lips had birth — 
Again, the ton c -s so shrill and clear 
Came chanting forth her sorrows drear; 
The ringlets once that graced her brow 
Xow hung as badges of her woe. 
And oh! tin; sight, was sad to see. 
Such wreck of sweet humanity! 

Yet still, at limes a gleam would come 
Across the deep, demented gloom. 
And then her bare and snowy breast 
Would find a brief but fleeting rest. 
And calmness on her head would sit, 
As might some passing bird alit, 
Upon a tempest-shatter'd bough. 
Sing o'er th - strife that, raged below, 
Until its blithe and cheerful strain 
Was drowned by howling storms ;ignm 
And thus would peaceful moments dm. 
Like lightning on her darkened hear) ; 
Ami then a sigh would breathe a tale 
Far sadder than the loudest wail, 



1 1! 


m her m'lim. m awful 
ijj.j rush the nrese 
\ud tears would dim her wildered eyes, 
i :... brew ed in m mtal agony ; 
• ill. the fitful season o'er, 
:;::iij;'-< hirotitthed as before. 
An ! those who love ! her-^-all forgot— 
Mighl mourn, but Mary knew it not. 
!» •/. as ;i lesson to the heart, 
\Vh\ :h. but will) life, from mine will part, 
T 1 sec by guilt, a blooming maid 
"1 bus changed inro a human shade; 
For i have seen her in her glee. 
Midst gambols on the grassy lea.. 
Ami I have joined the mercy throng, 
[lave heard the music of lea- tongue. 
Ah ! those were childhood's sunny hours 
I'liry fled-, and faded like the flowers. 
And now that sweet and gleesome thing 
Like blasted rose, drooped withering. 

Quick, starting at each souni she heard. 
Shy. timid as a mountain bird, 
She. sprang from rock to rock, and flew 
Like restless -phantom from my view. 
With such a scream and such a look 
As human brain should seldom brook. 
Yes. I have seen the polish'd eye 
Crow clearer towards eternity," 
An 1 1 have heard the ebbing breath 
Hard gurgling at the gripe of death, 
But seldom sight or sound so drear 
J huh ever fallen on eve or ear. 

]n grief T asked the crags around. 
An I echo caught the mournful sound : 
"Oh, teli me. why are earth and sky 
The witnesses of 'misery?*' 
"And why ''—but hark, that dolefu 

strain ! 
And list again, and yet again ! 
The frantic tones, how clear they How, 
A song of changing mirth and woe. 
As from thy porch, ••Forbidden Cave,"' 
Around whose gloom the waters lave. 
Is wafted on the pulsing air 
The music of unchained despair! '"^~~**" 
"fwas thus the hapless songstress sung. 
In her own plaintive natal tongue: 


Blinkna* sae blyfhe, yon fair, fausef 
W oona+ the earth wi' guile — 
Words may be fair and sweetly in tune. 

But oh. it was cruel to smile— 
Herritij in heart. J wander the while- 
Hearts are aye true in you bonnie isle. 
An' Jdl gae, I'll gae. where sorrow and 
Ne'e]- blighted the ros«"S that bloom on 
its soil. 

* Shine mf; f fal.;e, deceitful; 1 woo not; |j pi] 
•aged, robbed. 

Wintia* you whisht you w.mkriff wind. 

Cannai you close your e'e? 
iiiu you i'rae east to west to find, 

A. hame an' a rest like me? 
Doulfj] an" dovrie§ the sough o" the sea — 

Hall. hah. hah f but the if aim has glee. 
An' I'll sleep, I'll sleep, in the caves sae 

An' the spirits that dive will be true to 
me ! 

Oh ! have ye heard the linnet sing, 
its welcome to the op'ning spring'? 
\n 1 have ye heard the lark at morn. 
Or lilting mavis on the thorn? 
Didst ever iist, the ehafmeh high. 
Breathe out its matins to the sky? 
>r. have you heard the widowed <.\ove 
tlourn. all alone, its broken love? 
Vnd then could these, in one vast song, 
Flow forth from some seraphic tongue. 
.\"ot ii; that mingled song would flow 
■>o much of sweetness and of woe, 
Vs thus was borne along the sea 
Attuned to maddest melodv. 

Lme witching sounds we wish to stay 
A* ill always swiftest haste away; 
Vnd so the song of Mary's grief 
Was fitful, wild, and strange and brief; 
Hie echo which its burden bore; 
Vent down to sleep by Seaton*s shore. 
\nd o'er the scene, as sih-u'-e grew, 
,'anie clouds of dark, portentous hue, 
Vnd heaven and earth, in concert drear, 
c*roelaim*d a pelting; storm was near; 
While dimly seen, the ■• Gayiord's Rock " 
In scorn of wave mid tempest's shock, 
[Jpreared, majestic far on high, 
its. craggy summit to the sky ; 
.Vnd on its misty crown, a form 
Stood throned amid the coming storm; 
And from her tear-veiled eyeballs shone 
A light unearthly — not their own- 
Just as some meteor star at even 
Shoots through the sable vault of heaven, 
And then in ether's pathless sea 
is lost in dark immensity — 
So plunging, with a stifled yell. 
Adown the rugged crags she fell. 
While ocean oped her heaving breast, 
And took the wretched one to rest; 
And in her fall a spirit went— 
Unstained, and pure, and innocent — 
Back to the fount of untried life. 
Before it knew earth's ceaseless strife. 

But where is he, the soldier brave. 

Who rush'd to glory or the grave; 

iVith sword and "shield and name all 

For Isabella's crown to fight? 
low fares he now. the pampered scourge, 

- Will not; f wakeful, restless; tcaur.ot; ||hol' 
ow ; $ sad, sorrowful. 



The youthful knight, the proud Sir 

How now the crest, an 1 how the shield, 
Ho bore into that "tented field?" 
The helm and buckler, tarnish'd now, 
Gould illy ward a craven's brow; 
For dastard hearts can only slain 
The "'lory worth alone may gain. 
lie met the foe. 'tis true uuil'lay 
A wounded soldier mid the fray ; 
Our talc nor tells, how gory-thick 
Thewounds which male him battle-sick 5 
His life was spared for other ends. 
And home he hied him to his friend-'. 

They lighted up old Athyn's hall 
To hold" a happy festival'. 
And welcome to his hmd again 
The warrior from the fields of Spain; 
More cheer, that night, that mansion held, 
Than often graced a feast of eld ; 
And goodly guests, the young ami fair, 
Were met to greet proud Athyn's heir. 

Again 'twas autumn, but no moon 
Shed forth her silver light; and soon 
The bell on Aberbrothoek's* tower 
Struck nine, the solemn vesper hour; 
And with that hour the hero came; 
But who can tell if pride or shame 
Dwelt most within that heartless heart? 
The ghosts of other days might start- 
Before him. as he trod once more 
Abrinca'sf streets, well-known of yore. 
Whose vvynds and closes, dark and low. 
From " Danger Pointt " to "liodlen 

Row[j " 
He oft had scoured at dead of night. 
Amid the boist'rous brawl or tight— 
The shameless by whiskey brewed. 
Where simple Watch was eith§ subdued — 
We cannot tell — we care not now — 
Tut gloom was on his haggard brow. 
As from his steed he stepped him down, 
And called for horse to ride from town. 

His mother's mansion distant lay. 
Three lengthen'd miles of lonesome way; 
But he must join th ? festive game. 
The night though dark, he sere an i lame ; 
He mounted, ami his horse spurr'd. 
While dangled by his side. Ins sword; 

* The ancient name of the modern city of Ar- 
broreh on the coast of F n far shire, Scotland, 
and the birthbiace of the writer of this poem; 
| a Latinized form of the name of said city; t a 
point near it.s ancient harbor; j| a vow of red sand- 
stone houses forming part of what is now "High 
Street ;" §eith, easily. 

I'he road In- took, none better knew, 
And nimbly on hi? courser flew. 

The ways to reach that ancient 'nail 
Were more than one — he knew them ail. 
And took lie path along the shore. 
lie oft, in glee, had gone before, 
And through each winding swift \y pass'd. 
Unchanged; as when he saw them last; 
Cut, near the •• Gaylord Rock, '"* his 

Seemed strange and new; Ins trusty horse 
-food still, then pawed and pranced — 
Retreated now. and then advanced — 
Mis nostrils wide were stretched with 

Xor knew Sir George which way to steer; 
But. plunging spurs, he forward prest, 
And reached the cliff's o'erhangmg breast, 
Xor rein, nor words his steed would own. 
And. horse and rider both went down! 
The rocks were frowning, jagg'd and 

The gulf below was dark and deep, 
Xor e'er was seen the luckless corpse 
Of fated rider, or of horse; 
Perchance they drifted far from land, 
Or sank in gnieh on Seaton's strand — 
Xo more to rise to son or air — 
A meal for sharks that flounder there; 
And God alone can only tell, 
Which way he went — to heaven or hell! 

But. near the spot where Mary's grave 
Of rest was made, th' avenging wave 
Engulf 'd the wretch who stole her peace. 
And gave her restless ghost release. 
That hover'd. every night, they said. 
About that gnlf. in white arrayed; 
And o'er her lone and darksome bed. 
The rustic tear i- often shed; 
For lowly hinds have blood as pure 
As he who spurns them from his door, 
And loves as strong, and hearts as warm. 
As they who wear a titled charm ; 
They mourn for her — for black Sir George. 
They bless the beating of the surge 
That wore that frowning cliff away. 
And caused the spoiler's steps to stray. 
And still, through Athyn's wide domains. 
You no: maidens chant her wilding strains. 
And round the lowly cottage tire 
Will children press to hear the sire 
With moisten'd eye. rehearse the tale 
Of •• Bonnie Mary Teviotdale." 

* A projecting precipice, near the subterranean 
clni-m well-kn >\vn by the name of the " Gaylor 
i'ot, " sometimes misspelled (juylet. 







At one of our familiar interviews 
with Mr. Webster, in 1851, we request- 
ed him to give usan account of some of 
the early legal controversies in which he 
had been engaged. Me recited his 
defence of old Mr. Hodgdon of 
Northfield, who had been accused by 
one of his neighbors (whom we will 
call C — )of taking. clandestinely, Mr. X. 
Heath's saddle, and concealing it be- 
hind his (Ho dg don's) chimney, in his 
own dwelling house. 

C — entertained a grudge against 
Hodgdon in consequence of his 
treatment of his cow. and he endeav- 
ored to take revenge by taking Mr. 
Heath's saddle without the owner's 
knowledge, and placing it secretly 
behind Hodgdon's chimney. Heath, 
of course, missing his saddle, was soon 
anxiously inquiring for the lost proper- 

ty, and C — was 

very ready to render 

his aid to find it, and without much 
delay he introduced Heath into the 
back room of Hodgdon's house, and 
there pointed out the lost saddle, locat- 
ed behind the chimney. Here, then, 
was such consternation and surprise 
as the brethren of Joseph had, when 
the silver cup was found in Benjamin's 
sack. Thus far, Hodgdon's character 
had proved holiest and unsullied and 
without the imputation of crime. At 
this critical emergency, no one was so 
active in instigating legal proceedings 
against Hodgdon as his neighbor C — . 
He was arraigned before a justice of 
the peace upon the charge of stealing 
Heath's saddle. Mr. Webster was 
employed in the defence and the trial 
came on. C — was the chief witness 
hi support of the criminal charge. 
' On my side of the case," says Mr. 


•Dster, " was the uniform good char 

acter of Hodgdon, and the other 
fact, that he was the true owner of a 
good saddle, there also was the open 
hostility of his accuser C — . Fortu- 
nately, too, we had the admission, or 
suggestion of C — made to a reputable 
witness previous to the discovery of 
the saddle, that it would probably be 
found in Hodgdon's house. More 
than all, we made him appear to the 
justice, and before the large audience 
assembled at the trial, as a lying, 
guilty, prevaricating, tripping, witness, 
who had the boldness and hardihood 
to commit a crime and charge it un- 
justly upon Iris innocent neighbor. 
We succeeded in procuring the acquit- 
tal of my client, and fixing the stigma 
of the offence upon the true offender, 
who had plotted the destruction of his 

" The result in this case," said Mr. 
Webster, " gave to us great satisfaction, 
because we had assisted successfully in 
shielding the innocent from a gross 
and manifest injustice and conspiracy, 
and thus at the time discharged a high 
professional duty." 

Then next, Air. Webster recurred to 
his efforts in defence of Josiah Burn- 
ham. Mr. Webster had been admitted 
to the bar in Hillsborough county in 
the spring of 1S05. He had taken up 
his residence in Boseawen, then in 
that county. His practice extended 
to Rockingham, .Strafford and Grafton 
counties. In May, 1806, Josiah Burn- 
ham was tried by the jury in Grafton 
county for the crime of murder. He 
was charged with the killing with mal- 
ice, eec, Capt. Joseph Starkweather 
and Russell Freeman, Esq., while con- 
fined with them in the same: cell of the 
jail in Haverhill, They were both uri- 


fortunate debtors, committed to jail on 
account of their inability to pay just 
debts to their creditors. Freeman "had 
been a respectable citizen and magi- 
strate, holding various offices in the 
town of Hanover. Starkweather was 
also then a worthy resident in Haver- 
hill. They were both murdered in 
cold blood, guilty of no other fault 
except simply rallying Burnham on 
account of his criminal connection 
with the woman for which offence he 
had been confined to jail. 

Mr. Webster, and Sprague of Haver- 
hill, had been assigned by the court as 
the counsel of Burnham. William 
Smith, Esq., the grandfather of Du- 
rante of Boston, was then jailer at 
Haverhill. He and some other mem- 
bers of his family were the principal 
witnesses against Burnham. 

■Mr. Webster remarked that : "Burn- 
ham had no witnesses. He could not 
bring past good character to his aid, 
nor could we tirge the plea of insanity 
in his behalf. At this stage of the 
case, Mr. Sprague, the senior counsel, 
declined to argue in defence of Burn- 
ham, and proposed to submit his cause 
to the tender mercies of the court. I 
interfered with this proposition, and 
claimed the privilege to present my 
views of the ease'." 

We inquired of Mr. Webster what 
answer he could make to the over- 
whelming power of evidence produced 
by the state ? 

He answered, " I made my first. 
and the only solitary argument of my 
whole life against capital punishment, 
and the proper time for a lawyer to 
urge this defence is, when he is young, 
and has no matters of fact or law upon 
which he can found a better defence."* 

* Burnham was found guilty by the jury, was 
sentenced to be hung on August 12, ISO'-. On that 
day the sentence was carried into execution, in 
presence of an assembly of JO.000 people, on what 
is known as Powder Hone Hit. Lear Haverhill 
Corner. Rev Davit! >u lierhmd of Bath, was his 
Bpiiitual advis< r, and pieacln d a discourse on that 
occasion, he i-tanding on a pla form erec'.ed near 
Burnham's gibbet. Mr. Sutherland addressed him 
as follows: 

"Unhappy, fellow creature! you are an old man. 
You are now exhibited as a s-pectacle oi horror to 
this immense concourse of your fellow men. Al- 
ready arc y<m pinioned. " The fa'al cud i-: 
wreathed about your neck. The terrific gibbet i- 
erected over your head, and jour grave is open 

Mr. Webster gave us an account of 
one of his Grafton county cases, where 
a good old Scotch lady gave ?, happy 
definition to the word entice. Her 
definition is not often found in diction- 
aries. Previous to i Si 8, all process 
for the collection of debts run against 
the bodies of debtors, or in other 
words debtors were liable to 
imprisonment for the non-payment of 
their debts, Mr. Wells of Plymouth 
was a deputy sheriff, and heid one or 
more executions against one Symonds 
of Alexandria. Symonds was the son- 
in-law of Mrs. McMurphy of Alexan- 
dria, and occupied her little farm. 
Symonds had the misfortune to be 
poor in pocket, and relied upon his 
daily labor for the support of himself 
and family. Sheriffs were apt to select 
haying time for the collections of their 
executions against the laboring poor. 
Accordingly, Symonds found Mr. 
Sheriff Wells very near him one day 
as he was pitching hay upon his cart in 
his field. At first, was the polite re- 
quest by Wells to Symonds to pa)- an 
execution then in hand. 

The answer came, " I cannot pay, I 
have no money." 

Next, the notice came from Wells, 
that he must arrest the body. At this 
crisis, Mrs. McMurphy became a spec- 

We will now suppose Symonds to 
be on trial in court, being indicted for 
resisting Mr. Wells, as an officer of the 
law, and Mr. Webster to be employed 
to defend Mr. Symonds. and Mrs. Mc- 
Murphy on the stand, telling her story in 
behalf of the government, under spe- 
cial instruction to tell all things just 
as they happened. 

She proceeded : "I saw Mr. Wells go 
towards Mr. Symonds, when he was 

A few minutes more and vou will 

act from Mr. .Sutherland's 
m to show how things weie 

beneath your feet 
be in elerni.y." 

We make this ex" 
argumentum a'/ homii 
don.- 74 ears ago. 

Uurnham was fi.i years of ape on the dav of his 
execution. He had resided in Warren for some 
years. \Yr< a blacksmith by trade. He had 
manufactured the weapon used in killing hi ■; vic- 
tims from the point of a seyihe. It was about 
four inches in Iengdi. enclosed "in a wooden sheath, 
worn in the wais band of hi- pan aloon-. and was 
finally deposited in the unt-ium a; Dartmouth 
Colli ffe, rl.ere to be seen and abhorred by all Thai; 
hate murder. 



,,.:, hing hay as fa 

. . ifraid 01 a s 

omls did not 

st as he could, for we 
dower, and Mr. Sym- 
Say anything to Mr. 
Wells, nor did be strike him, but he 
held the pitchfork out towards him, 
and enticed him like in that way, an I 
all the time they were there near by. 
i did not see Symonds do nothing 
more than to entice Mr. Wells with 
the pitchfork." 

Tins extraordinary enticement of 
the deputy sheriff, by means of the 
pitchfork, put the court, jury, bail, and 
spectators in quite good humor, and 
gave a happy turn to the case in favor 
of the respondent Sy mo rids. Mr. 
Webster knew well how to employ the 
power of ridicule to his own, as well 
as to the advantage of his client. The 
incidents of this trial gave him a fine 
opportunity to illustrate its force. 

Mr. Webster removed from Boscawen 
to Portsmouth, in th.2 autumn of 1S07. 

" Soon after I commenced practice 
in Portsmouth," he remarked, " I was 
waited on by an acquaintance of my 
father, who resided in a neighboring: 
county. He stated his case in the 
following language : 'I hired a farm of 
W — for the term of five years, and 
took a lease of it, under the agree- 
ment that I should have it at the end 
of the term at the price of Srooo. I 
improved it well, made it productive, 
and now the lease having expired, I 
have been able to raise the stipulated 
price, and have offered it to W — and 
he has refused to take the money, and 
demands twice the sum. W — has 
brought the action of ejectment against 
me. I have only the % 1000. I cannot 
pay anymore.' 

I engaged to assist him. The case 
came on trial. The plaintiff's attorney 
stated his case. Pie admitted that he 
had leased the farm to the defendant, 
but that there was not a word in the 
lease about the sale to him. nor was 
there one word said about the sale at any 
price, as he should prove by a wit- 

Mr. Webster remarked, that he left 
the court-house at dinner time as he 
' lOught with a feeble prospect of 
making a successful defence. 

" My client had surrendered his 
lease, which he said contained the 
written stipulation, as aforesaid. Plain- 
tiff:- denied that it contained any such 
provision, and that the lease was lost, 
:i[)d could not be found. It was a 
case at law. The parties could not 
testify. 1 was afraid I could not make 
a good defense, by showing that a 
contract for a sale to my client had 
existed. "While at dinner I sat beside 
a newly commissioned military officer. 
A brother lawyer was joking him about 
his lack of military knowledge. lie 
remarked to the officer : ' You should 
write down your orders, and get old 
VV — (the plaintiff in the case on trial) 
to beat them into your sconce, as I 
saw him this morning with a paper in 
his hand, teaching young M — in the 
entry of the court house.' This re- 
mark made a strong impression upon 
my mind. After dinner the case was 
reopened and young M — was put 
upon the stand. He claimed, that 
he was present at the time the lease 
was made, and told his story quite 
fluently, repudiating all knowledge of 
any agreement to sell. When he had 
concluded, the opposite counsel, with 
a triumphant glance, turned to me and 
asked if I was satisfied. ' Not quite,' 
I replied. I had noticed a piece of 
paper protruding from M's pocket, and 
hastily approaching him, seized it be- 
fore he had the least idea of my inten- 
tion. My first inquiry was, 'Who wrote 
this paper?' 

' The plaintiff.' 

' Did he tell you to swear to this 

< He did.' 

' Did he promise to reward you, if 
you would tell this story?' 

' He said I would be well paid.' 

•' Is your story true?' 

I I don't know.' 

' Was you present when the parties 
made this lease ?' 

I I was not.' 

'Did you ever hear them talk about 
it, when together?' 

' I did not.' 

The witness hung his head in shame, 
and retired from the stand. The evi- 



clence on our side was sugat, and was 
submitted to the jury, ['he defend i it 
had brought his $1000 into court. 
The verdict of the jury was for the 

money and 





1 he plain til 
went home. The attempt 
his witness created great 
public indignation against the plaintiff; 
and soon afterwards he felt obliged to 
emigrate to the West.' 1 

Mr. Webster remarked that many 
years afterwards, at a festive dinner 
given to him, by the brethren of the 
bar in this state : " I was requested to 
solve the question, how I knew what 
was in the paper, which i took out of 
M — 's pocket. I told the bar, that 
on that occasion I had tried a bold 
and hazardous experiment; founded 
upon the information acquired at the 
dinner-table, and advised the brethren 
to be very cautious how the} tried sim- 
ilar experiments in court." 

Mr. Webster's rule of practice was 
to treat witnesses when called upon to 
testify before him with uniform kind- 
ness. The exception to the rale would 
reasonably apply to cases where a dis- 
honest witness is used by a party to 
effect a fraudulent purpose. 

Mr. Webster remarked to us, that 
soon after he removed to Boston he -was 
employed by a client, who had a case 
pending, and to be tried at Taunton, 
in Bristol county, where a considera- 
ble amount of money was involved. 
His client had told him that he under- 
stood a witness was to be introduced to 
testify that his client, the plaintiff in the 
case, had admitted, a certain time prior 
to the commencement of the suit, in 
his presence, that the debt in contro- 
versy had been paid. Nov/ if he stated 
any such fact, his client remarked, it 
would be entirely false. 

The case soon came on to trial, the 
aforesaid witness appeared in court, and 
was pointed out to Mr. Webster. The 
plaintiff presented his case to tire jury. 
It was a promisory note secured by 
mortgage. While the opposing counsel 
was stating his defense to the jury, -Mr. 
Webster left the bar and placed him- 
self directly in front of the witness, 
fixing his large, black, penetrating eyes, j 

with all their magnetic power m tuli 
farce, upon him. The witness n coil ;d 
and undertook to escape from this un- 
common, unasked, burning gaze. He 
undertook lo remove from his seal ; 
then he held down his head and 
dodged about, in the meantime in 
ing within himself, why am 1 marked 
out for this strange visitation? Tiie 
witness could not withstand this intent 

came over 
At this crit- 

gaze. A sudden tremor 
he became agitated. 



ical period of his existence lie was 
called to the stand, lie told his story, 
that he had seen the parties together 
many months before the commence- 
ment of this suit, when the plaintiff ad- 
mitted lie had no demand against the 
defendant. This was the whole import 
of his evidence. He was then transfer- 
red to the otherside for examination. Mr. 
Webster then inquired where he lived. 
" In New York city. " 
"' Did you know the plaintiff? " 
" I did not ; I had never seen him 
before the time referred to in my testi- 
mony, and then I did not learn his 
name ; met the parties accidentally in 
the street, as I was passing by: heard 
what I have testified to, and nothing 
more j then knew neither party ; \va 
not requested to remember what 1 
heard ; my attention had not been called 
to this matter until this term ; had not 
been in Taunton since, until last week ; 
told defendant last week what 1 knew 
for the first time ; met him at the court 
house, and heard him talking abo it 
the case, then I happened to remem- 
ber what I had heard three years be- 
fore ; I don't know what demands the 
plaintiff ever had against the defendant, 
only know he sand they were paid : 
would not be certain that I had ev< 1 
seen the plaintiff, only the defendant 
had told me last week that they were 
together, as I had before stated ; defend- 
ant then told me this story, as 1 now 
remember it ; defendant wanted me to 
remember what demands had been set- 
tled, but I could not now state wl 
they were; thought I could have re- 
membered more if Mr. ^ ei 

not looked at me so shai 
nonplussed me badly." 

it had 



MY. Crowninshield, former partner of I two of my last questions tended strong- 
Mr. Ohoate, had given me the particu- j ly to betray the true character of the 
tars of this trial, and in our interview witness. I asked him who his neigh- 

with Mr. Webster, he had briefly con 
rmed his statement. Mr. Webster 
■ noted this defense as one that had been 
m.mufactured by the defendant, and 
that it was only sustained by one false 
v. itness who told a story entirely improb- 
a >Ie, and unworthy of belief. 

Mr. Webster remarked that <; One or 

jors were in the city of New York. 
Me said lie could not tell the names of 
anyone. I asked him how many years 
he had resided there. His answer \wv:> 
hfteen years; " 

The verdict in this case was for the 


What wealth of associations is con- 
nected with the name ! The Scotch 
Covenanters, stern, brave men, who 
made a garden of the north of Ire- 
land, who so stubbornly and success- 
fully defended their devoted city from 
the assault of the Catholic army, who 
helped so manfully to maintain the 
monarch and the cause that later 
would oppress them as aliens, surround- 
ed by enemies at home, burdened by 
obnoxious laws enforced by their allies 
di the established church, sought in 
die wilderness of America, liberty and 
and that religious freedom which the 
Puritans, a century earlier, had suc- 
cessfully gained. A young man. 
Holmes by name, son of a Presbyteri- 
an minister, brought a good account 
oi the promised land ; and encour- 
aged by his representations four con- 
gregations, led by their respective 
c 1 e r g \ m e n , c m m e n c e d the exodus, 
which, in a few years, rendered possi- 
ble die American Revolution. Gov- 
ernor Shute, of Massachusetts, was 
above the narrow prejudices of his con- 
temporaries in the colony, and wel- 
comed this band of hardy settlers, res- 
olute warriors, scholars and skilled ar- 
tisans, and generously granted them a 
large section of land, completely with- 
out' his jurisdiction. April u, 17 19, 
the congregation, under the spiritual 

[ guidance of Rev. James MacGregor, 
I arrived at Horse Hill and commenced 
! the settlement of the township of 
Londonderry, a tract, as originally 
i granted, twelve miles square. It cor- 
nered on the present Massachusetts 
state line, and was bounded on the 
south by Peiham, on the west by Litch- 
field, on the north by Chester, and on 
i the east by Hampstead. It included 
j the present towns of Londonderry, 
j Deny, and Windham, and tracts now 
I embraced within the towns of Salem, 
j Hudson, and the city of Manchester. 
I Among the early settlers were Wilson, 
I Anderson, Morrison, Mitchell, Barnett, 
I McKean, Taylor, Nichols, Humphrey, 
Gilmore, Stewart, Allison, Weir, Mac- 
Gregor, Nesmith, Clark, Cochran, 
Thompson, McNeal, Campbell, Parker, 
MeDufTee, Proctor, Thornton, Kidder, 
Goffe, Graves, Lindsey, Blair, Rogers, 
Thorn, Simonds, Perce, Spaulden, 
Prentice, Aiken, Wallace, Choate, 
Todd, Bell, Holmes, Patterson, Fisher, 
Pinkerton, MacAIester, Livermore, 
Dinsmoor, and others, whose descend- 
ants have removed the odium at- 
tached to the name of Scotch-Irish, 
and have written their names on the 
imperishable pages of history. 

These settlers receiving their origi- 
nal grant from Massachusetts \\m\ it 
confirmed to them bv the authorities 



of New Hampshire, purchased the I 
right claimed under the Wheelwright | 
deed and evidently entered into a J 
compact with the. Indians, for the}' 
were never disturbed in their possess- 
ions, although a frontier town. During 
the first summer they united in culti- 
vating a held in common, amicably 
dividing the produce in the autumn. 
Although not rich, they brought with 
them considerable property from the 
old country, and very soon were sur- 
rounded with many of the comforts 
and even luxuries of civilization. They 
introduced into New England the cul- 
ture of the potato, and engaged exten- 
sively in the manufacture of "linen 
cloth. A two- story house was built for 
their minister and a commodious 
church for public worship. Schools 
were established in different parts of 
the town and much attention given to 
the education of the young. It is a 
characteristic fact that ninety-five out of 
one hundred of the original proprietors 
left their autographs in a fairly legible 
hand on various petitions. 

The progress made by the town of 
Londonderry was remarkable. Their 
wealth and population increased rapid- 
ly. In 1775, ^ contained 2590 inhab- 
itants, ranking next to Portsmouth in 
importance. By 1S20 Gilmanton and 
Sanbornton had outstripped it, and it 
held the fourth position among the 
New Hampshire towns. In 1823, 
John Farmer and Jacob Moore, in their 
Gazetteer of New Hampshire, gave a 
full description of the town. In 1851, 
a history of Londonderry, written by 
Edward L. Parker, \yas published. 
In 1857, Edwin A. Charlton, in "New 
Hampshire as it is," compiled a de- 
scription. June to, 1869, the town 
celebrated the 150 anniversary of its 
settlement by appropriate exercises. 
The assembly was addressed by Hon. 
George W. Patterson of New Vork, by 
Hon. Charles II. Bell, by Hon. Horace 
Greeley, by Hon. James W. Patterson, 
by Samuel H. Taylor, ll. d., by Hon. 
E. H. Derby, by Rev. Nathaniel Pont- 
on, d. d., by Hon. A. F. Stevens, and 
by Rev, C. M. Dinsmpre. The proceed- 
ings were afterwards edited and pub- 

lished by Robert C. Mack. In 1873, 
A. J. Fogg in his Statistical Gazeteer of 
New. Hampshire gives an account of 
the town. Among the records of the 
town one reads of the heroic deeds of 
Pair, Todd and Goffe in the old In- 
dian wars; of Rogers, Re id and Stark 
in the war of the Revolution j and of Mc- 
Neil and Miller in the war of 1812. The 
honorable record of the old town dur- 
ing the Rebellion remains to be written. 
Among this accumulation of histori- 
cal matter, of biographical facts, and 
description of educational institution. 
manufactures and places, there is one 
subject which remains to be consider- 
ed, for it has grown to be a fact within 
the last half dozen years. I refer to 
the village of 


This village is pleasantly situated on 
an elevated plane, through the middle 
of which runs the Manchester 
and Lawrence railroad at right 
angles to the principal street, 
known as the Nashua road. The 
depot, around which as a nucleus lias 
been gathered this thriving village, is a 
commodious structure presided over 
by Hon. James Priest. Mr. Priest is a 
native of VVeare, N. H.. born April 8, 
1S13 and has held his present position 
since 1856, serving his district as state 
senator in 187,1 anc ^ 1S75. 

After an absence of a few years one 
can hardly recognize the village, so 
remarkable has been its growth. Dur- 
the past four years some forty new 
buildings have been erected, all oi a 
substantial character; and streets have 
been laid out at right angles and par- 
allel to Nashua road. 

There is a church edifice in the vil- 
age and a fine new school-house erect- 
ed at an expense of $2,600 — tokens 0! 
progress in the right direction. 

The Perry National Rank was 
established in 1864; John W. tfoyes, 
(son-in-law of the late Rev. Nathan el 
Bouton, i). d., of Concord), is presi- 
dent and John P. Newell cashier, 
has a capital of $60,000 and ;> surp us 
of 58,ioo. The average deposits arc 



The trade of the village is carried 
on fry wide-awake merchants. Carlos 
I Cutler occupies a new store erect- 

I by himself and deals in stoves, tin- 
glassware, woodenware and kitch - - 
1 n i irniture, and manufactures tin and 
beet-iron articles. 

I ?eorge S. Rollins occupies a 
tore in Smith's block and deals in 
;': y:s. grain, groceries, dry goods, boots 
and shoes, and crockery. He is a 
native of DeerfVeld, has been in busi- 
ness in Lowell many years ; is well 
known throughout the state as a com- 
mercial traveller; has been settled at 
the "Depot" in trade for some three I 
years past ; and is building a residence 
in the village. He comes of the same 
family as Hon. E. A. Rollins of Phila- 
delphia, Hon. E. H. Rollins of Con- 
cord, and John R. Rollins of Law- 

The firm of L. Robert- and Wil- 
liam S. Pillsbury are dealers in dry 
goods, boots and shoes, grain, groceries 
<\rA general country produce, and have 
a large and well furnished store. L. 
Robert Pillsbury is postmaster. For 
some years he was clerk of the U. S. 
court at Memphis. Tennessee. 

The blacksmith of the village is 
Tappan R. Robie who makes a special- 
ty Of Horseshoeing. He has been a 
resident of the village for 26 years. 
In 1S77 and 1878 he represented the 
town in the state legislature. 

James F. Coburn, manufacturer of 
fish packages, employs from 15 to 
25 hands, working the material from 
the stumps, and shipping daily to 
Portland, Boston, New York, Philadel- 
phia and Baltimore, 100 half barrels. 
_ Warren P. Horn and Brothers do 
alarge lumber business, having the use of 
forty-horse power from the water privi- 
lege at their mill. They have put in a 
sixty-horse power steam engine. 

clement, colburn and company. 

The institution of Derry Depot is 
the factory of Clement, Colburn and 
company for the the manufacture of 
boots and shoes. This establishment 
employs the skilled labor of over 400 
American workmen and workwomen 
(in the ratio of three to two), allowing 

generous pay and affording an oppor- 
tunity to lay up a competency and be- 
come bondholders. The rapid growth 
of the village is chiefly due to the 
Shop. A car load of operatives come 
in the morning and leave at night by 
rail ; eventually they will build up the 

Jn the owner of the mill and the 
agent of the above company we recog- 
nize Col. William S. Pillsbury of Gov. 
Prescott's staff. As the present pros- 
perity of the "Depot" in a great 
measure is due to Col. Pillsbury, to his 
enterpirse and business sagacity, our 
readers may like to know his antece- 

Col. Pillsbury is the son of Rev. 
Stephen Pillsbury,. of the Baptist 
church, who was for different periods 
settled at Londonderry, Dunbarton, 
Hebron and Sutton, and is a cousin of 
John Pillsbury, governor of Minnesota, 
and Hon. George A. Pillsbury, ex- 
mayor of Concord. He was born in 
Sutton, March 15, 1833 : married 
April 1.5, 1856, Martha S., daughter of 
Peter Crowell of Londonderry. They 
have four children living. At the age 
of 2i Col. Pillsbury struck out for him- 
self in the shoe business, going into 
business for himself for one year be- 
fore the war. He served his country 
for two years in the army, holding the 
rank of first-lieutenant of the N. H. 
Heavy Artillery ; his town, for two 
years, as a representative to the legis- 
ture, during the Whitcher-Landarf*-Eas- 
ton embrogiio ; his county, for three 
years, as county commissioner ; and 
his state two years, in the arduous yet 
honorable situation of member of 
the governor's staff. As county com- 
missioner he made the first report for 
Rockingham county, calling attention 
to the evil of tramps in the communi- 
ty, and recommending stringent legisla- 
tion. As a member of the house he 
introduced the first law designed to 
abate the nuisance, and winch, worked 
well until a sironger one was enacted. 
Col. Pillsbury owns a fine farm of some 
200 acres in Londonderry. Afier his 
return from the army in 1S65 he com- 
menced business. in 1870 he pur- 



chased his present works and soon 
after entered into the present arrange- 
ment with Messrs Clement, Colburn 
and company. 

The: factory is shaped some like the 
letter H. Its extent may be known 
from the fact that there is an acre and 
a quarter of floor room, or over 50.000 
square .feet. The office is in the 
brick building formerly used as a bank 
and later as a school-house and at 
present attached to the factory. We 
will tarry in the bright, pleasant office 
and take a few notes of the extent of 
the business. The goods manufactur- 
ed here find a sale in Brazil, Yucatan, 
Peru and Chili, in New Zealand, Aus- 
tralia and. South Africa, supplanting 
the English trade in their own colonies. 
in Denmark. Norway and Russia-, in all 
the West India Islands, and in every 
state and territory in the United Srates. 
The western trade demands the lowest 
instep, the Spanish trade the highest. 
Part of the Spanish trade demands 
heels two and a quarter inches high. 
For the foreign trade there are needed 
250 different styles ; their whole trade 
demands 450 to 500 different styles of 
the various sizes. For soles, South 
American and Western hides are used. 
The goat and kid stock comes from 
the celebrated manufactory at Wil- 
mington, Delaware. Fancy stock, 
such as gold and silver plated kid, 
costing as high as 80 cents per foot, 
is imported from France. The pay- 
roll is over Si 2,000 per month. Three 
thousand pairs of shoes are the pres- 
ent monthly product, with a capacity 
or more. The building is heated by 
team, and the force applied from a 

forty-horse power engine — much of th 
leather waste being used for fuel. 

This foreign trade of tile house was 
kept a prof rand secret until the trade 
was well established. Two salesmen 
are wandering over the world getting 
orders for the Derry shoes ; two others 
are journeying through the United 
States, to keep orders ahead of the 
work. The American manufacturer 
aims to supply just the demand of a 
foreign market, however absurd it may 
appear he fills his contract, and having 
established a trade, fears no rival or 

The factory has four stories, includ- 
ing the basement. The manufacture 
of boots and shoes in a factory is be- 
coming an important industry in New 
Hampshire The small shops along 
the highway are deserted, and power, 
machinery and capital are intelligently 
directed to economize labor and per- 
fect results. There is not an idle hand 
in or about Col. Pillsbury's factory ; 
cheerful activity is everywhere. Hun- 
dreds of sewing machines are in mo- 
tion, driven by steam, stitching the del- 
icate child's slipper or the ponderous 
brogau. In minutes now is accom- 
plished the work of hours, of old. 

The village is situate near the geo- 
graphical centre of the old township of 
Londonderry, in the town of Derry, 
near the town-line of Londonderry. It 
is on a plain, surrounded by a fertile, 
rolling country, rich agriculturally, and 
capable of still further development. 
The village is fast outgrowing the 
neighboring centres, and bids fair to 
become a very important manufactur- 
ing place. 




G R A N I T E M O N T H LY. 


Vol. IV 

JANUARY, 1881 

Xo. 4, 



There is throughout the civilized 
world a certain value in an honorable 
name, and in a long line of honorable 
ancestry. Many of the patrician fami- 
lies of Europe can trace their descent 
in an unbroken line through many cen- 
turies — the portraits of their ancestors, 
treasured in galleries, being among the 
most highly valued heirlooms of many 
old families. 

There was among our Puritan ances- 
try of the Saxon race the same pride 
of family and birth as among their titled 



itans o( 

.seventeenth century, the men who suc- 
cessfully resisted the encroachments of 
a tyrant, who under Cromwell never 
knew defeat, who made the name of an 
Englishman a title of honor and 
respect throughout the world, who 
wrested this country of ours from 
savagery, and laid the foundations of a 
great state, were a brave, resolute, 
energetic, zealous and honorable race 
of men. When they left their native 
land for these shores, they left tradition 
behind. They strove to found in the 
new world families which would perpet- 
uate the spirit of liberty and pietv 
which actuated their founders. None 
succeeded in this better than William 
Chandler, the ancestor of the subject 
of this sketch. 

i. William Chandler, born in 597, 
and Annis, his wife, settled in Roxbury, 
Massachusetts, in 1637. bringing with 

them from England a family of several 
small children. He died January 19 
164 [. From him have descended the 
Chandlers, scattered throughout every 
state of the Union, engaged in every 
honorable pursuit, gracing every profes- 
sion, esteemed by their fellow-citizens, 
honoring high offices — repi esentative 
American citizens. 

2. William Chandler, son of William 
and Annis Chandler, married Mary 
Dane and settled in Andover, Massa- 
chusetts. They were the parents of 
fourteen children. He died in 1698, 
at the age of 65. 

3. William Chandler, son of William 
and Mary (Dane) Chandler, was born 
January 31, 1661 ; married Sarah 
Buckminster, December 28, 16S2; 
lived in Andover ; and died October 
27, 1727. 

4. Zachariah Chandler, son of Wil- 
liam and Sarah (Buckminster) Chand- 
ler, was born May 1, 1695 ; married 
Margaret Bishop, January 8, 1716; 
settled in West Roxbury ; was one of 
the original proprietors of Bedford, 
then Narragansett No. 5 ; and left a large 
estate in that town to his descendants. 

5. Zachariah Chandler, only sou and 
youngest child o( Zachariah and Mar- 
garet (Bishop) Chandler, was born 
May 28, 1 751. During most of his 
minority he resided with his relatives 
in Roxbury. At a suitable age he 
came to reside on. and take care of. 



his patrimonial estate in Bedford. 
Before he was twenty- one he married 
Sarah Patten. Me died April 20, 

6. Thomas Chandler, the oldest son 
of Zaehariah and Sarah (Patten.) 
Chandler, was born August 10, 1772. 
In 1 793, he married Susannah MeAffee. 
and se tiled in Bedford. Me was a 
Member of Congress from New 
Hampshire from 1829 to 1833. He 
died January 28, i860. 

7. Adam Chandler, Only son of 
Thomas and Susannah (MeAffee) 
Chandler, was born June 7/A.S05 ; 
married Sally McAllaster, and lived in 
Bedford many years on his father's 
farm. He now resides in Manches- 

8. George Byron Chandler, the 
second son of Adam and Sally (McAl- 
laster) Chandler, was born in Bedford, 
November iS, 1832. Here it may be 
well to note that the Chandler family 
have always been noted for their 
strong good sense, and purity of 
character. To this family belonged John 
Chandler, who represented Massachu- 
setts in Congress, from 1805 to 1S08, 
and was the first United States Senator 
elected from Maine, after that state 
was admitted to the Union. He was 
born in Epping, N. H., in 1760, and 
died in Augusta, Maine, September 25, 
1841. Joseph R. Chandler, born in 
Massachusetts, who represented Penn- 
sylvania in Congress, from 1849 to 
1855, and was appointed by President 
Buchanan, in 1858, minister to Naples : 
and Zaehariah Chandler, the veteran 
senator from Michigan. were 
of the same family. Zaehariah 
Chandler, son of Samuel and Margaret 
(Orr) Chandler, grandson of Zaehariah 
(5) and Sarah (Patten) Chandler, was 
born in Bedford, December 10, 18 13, 
re mo v i u g, i n 1 8 3 3 , to D e tro it. In 1 85 1 , 
he was elected mayor of Detroit, and 
in 1857, United States Senator, which 
office he held for eighteen years, con- 
secutively, to the honor of his party 
and of the nation. 

George Byron Chandler was born 
at the family homestead in Bedford and 
was brought up in his father's hospita- 

ble home, surrounded by all the cost 
forts of an old-fashioned farm housi 
the cultivated society ot that fine ol ; 
town, and the devoted care of fond 
parents. At home were instilled those 
principles of generosity, integrity and 
virtue which have always distinguished 
Mr. Chandler's life. He was, favored 
also in having two congenial brothers. 
Henry Chandler and John McAllaster 
Chandler, who, even in their boyish 
sports, learned the" lesson that in 
union is strength. His early youth 
was that of a happy, free-from-care 
farmer's boy. when with every breath 
was drawn in that invigorating air 
which builds up strong frames and ro- 
bust constitutions. At the age of fifteen 
he left the home nest, and ventured in- 
to the world, strong in character to 
meet and overcome the many obstacles 
in life's pathway, fortified by the best 
of trainings to resist the temptations 
which beset youth) on every hand. 

Three terms at Gilmanton Academy, 
under the instruction of Charles Ten- 
ney, one year at the Normal School 
at Reed's Ferry, one fall term at 
Washington, under the tutelage of Prof* 
Dyer H. Sanborn, and one fall term at 
Hopkinton. under the same distin- 
guished instructor, gave Mr. Chandler 
the rudiments of a good English, educa- 
tion, winch careful and discriminating 
reading through life has nurtured until 
to-day he may well claim to rank with 
the liberally educated men of his age. 
In fact, a college education was offered 
to hum by his generous father, but the 
active business of life had more charms. 
One means of culture he received that 
is of no small consequence in the form- 
ative period of a young man's life ; 
he taught school four consecutive win- 
ters before he was twenty-one. 

Thus, studying in the fall, teaching in 
the winter, and working during the 
summer on his father's farm, he arrived 
at his majority with a strong constitu- 
ion, a good education, and an unblem- 
ished character. During his youth his 
favorite study was mathematics, and as 
the boy is father of the man, figuring 
has been the specialty of his life. 

With a freedom gift from his father of 



. ■ . ipty wa! st, « rticrj tlie young man 

then and there inwardly vowed to fill to 

' iion, Mr. Caandlei bade good bye 

to the paternal roof on the 9th day of 

March, 1854, and 

wended ins way to 
search of a fortune. 
He rea.dl'y found employment as book- 
keeper with the firm of Kidder and 
Duncklee, where bis close attention to. 
and aptitude for business, attracted the 
attention of Hon. Moody Currier, one 
of the most pre niinent financiers of New 
Hampshire, and led' to important re- 
sults. Through Mr. Currier's influence 
Mr. Chandler was induced to give up 
trad c , and > 1 arc h 1,1855, he c nte re ^ 
upon his career as a banker, accepting 
the situation of book-keeper in the 
Amoskeag Bank. September 1, 1856, he 
was appointed teller of the bank, which 
office he he'd until the organization of 
the Amoskeag National Bank, in No- 
vember, 1864, when he was chosen 
cashier — an office of great trust 
and responsibility — which he stiil con- 
tinues to occupy. In 1 86 7. Mr.Chand- 
ler was elected cashier of the Amoskeag 
bus having the burden 

Savings Ban] 

ot two great financial institutions thrust 
upon him. The growth and prosperi- 
ty of these establishments are in no small 
measure due to the confidence inspired 
by Mr. Chandler's management. The 
Savings Bank has a deposit to the 
amount of £2.200,000, and a surplus 
of 300,000, if bonds were sold at their 
market value. Through all the bad 
times, and now, it pays a dividend of 
five per cent — a fact unprecedented 
in New Hampshire banking institutions, 
I think. The National Bank ranks with 
the first in surplus and solidity. In 
1 8 74, Mr. Chandler resigned his active 
connection with the Amoskeag Savings 
Bank, helped to organize the People's 
Savings Bank, and accepted the office 
of treasurer, which he continues to 

hold. This 

is deservedly popu 

lar, and is entrusted with the maxi- 
mum deposit allowed by its charter, 
viz. : $500,000, on which it has always 
paid five per cent interest. For the 
last twenty five years, banking has been 
the profession of Mr. Chandler's life, and 
he is rapidly rising to the top. Jn 1867 

he was elected a director of the Man- 
chester and Lawrence Railroad, which 
position he held until chosen treasurer 
in 1872, the duties of which office he 

continues to exercise. 

In spite of the unfortunate fate of so 
many insurance companies in New 
Hampshire, to Mr. Chandler's astute 
mind it was evident that it required 
only careful management to make an 
insurance company a safe, sound, and 
remunerative concern, profitable alike 
to stock- and policy-holders. With this 
idea he was a strong surporter and ad- 
vocate of the New Hampshire Insur- 
surance Company, which was organized 
in 1870. and is now one of the flourish- 
ing institutions of the state. As treasurer, 
Mr v Chandler has given to the com- 
pany'ihe benefit of his varied financial ex- . 
perience and sound judgment. The 
growth of this company is remarkable 
and unprecedented. It started in 
1870 with a capital of Si 00,000, and 
received during the first year premiums 
to the amount of about $40,000. In 
1880, owing to careful management 
for the past ten years, its assets amount- 
ed to $585,334, with a surplus of 
8 1 7 1,246. The net premiums received 
in 1880, amounted to 8248,220. 

As a citizen and neighbor Mr. Chandler 
is highly esteemed by all. A character 
of strict integrity, gained by a quarter of 
a century of fair dealing, has led to 
many private trusts and responsibilities. 
As the guardian of minors, the trustee 
of estates, the executor of wills, the 
financial adviser of widows and children, 
his services have long been eagerly 
sought. Blessed as Mr. Chandler's 
life has been with success in all of his 
undertakings, he has ever had a proper 
commiseration for those less fortunate 
than h ims elf — fo r t h o s e u p o n w h o m 
fortune has never smiled. His sympa- 
thy and his money have always been 
freely bestowed where needed and de- 
served. The imposter would nor 
stand the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze. 
In all the noble charities o( Man- 
chester, his name will be found among 
the most generous givers ; bis private 
charities are whispered, not known. 

Withal, Mr. Chandler is thorough- 

Is 2 



New Hampshire man 
native state, deeply 



his native state, deeply interest- 
in her materia] prosperity, hope- 
of her future. With the 

eye of faith he sees her desert- 
ed farms reoccupied by descend- 
ants of the old proprietors, every 
water-power throughout the state 
utilized to move the wheels of industry 
and improved to their fullest value, 
her homogeneous population drawn 
still closer together by business and 
social ties, her far famed scenery still 
more widely known and more widely 
popular, and her fair valleys and hills 
known and loved by the owners of 
the soil and duly appreciated by a 
multitude of summer tourists. These 
ideas led him to be the founder j 
of the New Hampshire club, whose ! 
monthly meetings draw the bus- 
iness men of the state together for 
their mutual pleasure and improvement. 

In early life, Mr. Chandler was joined 
in marriage to Flora A., daughter of the 
late Hon. D. J. Daniels, once mayor of 
Manchester who died suddenly in 
May, 1S6S, leaving an infant, who sur- 
vived her mother only two months. 

In i S 70, he married Fanny Rice, only 
daughter of Col. 13. F. Martin. Their 
children are Benjamin Martin Chand- 

ler about nine years of age, and Byron 
('handier, born in 1879. They have 
to mourn the loss of one child, Alex- 
ander Rice Chandler, who died in 

Mr. Chandler is a democrat in poli- 
tics, adhering to the political principles 
of his father and grandfather. In 1K74, 
he accepted the nomination of his 
party and was elected state senator. 
In the presidential election of 18S0, 
he was the candidate of his party for 
elector, but failed of an election. He 
is well satisfied, and well he may 
be, with the pursuits of private life, 
which, outside of his engrossing 
cares at the bank, is of the most do- 


n free from 

raestic character, 
business, his time is devoted to his 
home and family. His house is fitted 
up to meet the requirements of a cul- 
tivated taste, and is indeed a home. 

The future must look blight to Mr. 
Chandler ; in the prime of manhood, 
blessed with worldly goods, enjoying 
the respect, confidence, and regard of 
his fellow citizens, entrusted with the 
most important duties, confident in 
himself, he apparently has in his own 
hands the making of tne brightest des- 


BY K. J. K. 

'Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will 1 deliver him." Psalm XCI : 14. 

Jesus, this sinful heart of mine 

Is prone to set its love. 
Upon the things of sense and time 

And not on things above. 

On Thee, on Thee, O Savior Christ! 

Could 1 but fix my eye. 
For a high purpose for my life. 

I should no longer sigh. 

Oh, glimpses of Thy loveliness 

In pity give to me. 
So that my restless heart be filled 

With naught but thoughts of Thee. 

And then shall I delivered be 

Front each besetting sin, 
And holy peace and sweet content, 

Shall reign my breast within. 

And then, wherever I may go. 
Whatever I may be. 

My 'every thought, and word, and deed. 
Shall be as unto Thee. 

Jesus. T crave this blessedness, 

Not for my sake alone, 
But that in me. Thy humble child, 

Thy sacred will be done. 




inquiry is frequently made as to the 
disposition 01 fate of om judges, who 
are unable to discharge the duties of 
their stations by reason of permanent 
bodily infirmities, or confirmed mental 

As to the judges appointed under 
state authority, our constitution confers 
the power upon the executive to 
remove the judge in such cases, when 
both houses of the legislature in their 
discretion shall, by their joint address, 
first determine that the public good 
requires the act to be done. 

We illustrate the practice first under 
our own state constitution. 

In i Si 2, William Plumer was 
governor ; Arthur Liver-more was chief 
justice of the supreme court ; Clifton 
Claggett was associate justice ; Judge 
Evans, who lies buried on the old 
Hopkinton road, .near Concord line, 
was associate justice. 

In the biography of Gov. Plumer 
by his son, page 396, we have the views 
of Gov. Plumer in relation to the 
case of Judge Evans, stated in the 
following extract : 

" Livermore, the chief justice, though 
a strong man, felt the need of abler 
associates. Evans, who was not a 
lawyer, had been prevented by ill- 
health from sitting on the bench more 
than one day for the last eighteen 
months. On applying in person for 
an order for his quarter's salary, the 
governor adverted delicately to the 
condition of the court, when Evans 
said, that he had some thoughts of 
resigning, but that he was poor as well 
as sick, and wanted the emoluments of 
his office for his support. To remove a 
sick man, says the governor in his 
journal, oppressed with poverty, is a 
hardship to him; to continue him in 
office is a greater hardship to the 
state. The legislature must decide. 
They had decided, in June, not \o 

request his removal, and without such 
request, the governor could not act in 
the case.'" The governor placed the 
responsibility where it belonged. Here 
was a case of non-action. 

We give a different one : — In the fall 
and winter of 1836, Hon. Boswell 
Stevens, of Pembroke, held the office 
of judge of probate for Merrimack 
county. He was an able lawyer, and a 
popular and upright judge. During 
the session of the legislature of that 
year he was struck with a paralysis, 
entirely disabling him from ability to 
discharge the duties of his office. His 
case came before the legislature at 
their fall session. The evidence of 
able physicians was received, that there 
was no reasonable prospect of his re- 
covery. Accordingly, both branches 
of the legislature united in an address 
to the governor, requesting his removal 
from office. The place of the judge 
was soon occupied by his successor. 
Judge Stevens died in January of the 
next year. The remedy in this case 
was apparently severe. But we now 
propose to compare it with an earlier 
case of removal from office, by the 
Congress of the United States. We 
refer to Hon. John Pickering of Ports- 
mouth, who was removed from the 
office of judge of the district court for 
New Hampshire, in the year A. D. 
1804, and died in Portsmouth, April 
n, A. D., TS05. He was born in 
Newington, in 1 73S, graduated at 
Harvard College in 1 76 1 ; soon be- 
came eminent in the profession of the 
law in Portsmouth ; was an active 
partisan in defence of the rights and 
liberty of America; as early as 1773, 
was on a committee to prevent the 
importation of tea; in 1775, '76, and 
several other succeeding years, was an 
influential member of the legislature 
from Portsmouth ; was a member of 
the convention and assisted in framing 



our state constitution : was cmet justice 
of our supreme court for five years, 
commencing with 1790; was previous- 
ly attorney-general for one year; serv- 
ed as governor most of one year, after 
John Rangoon was chosen senator; 
was one of the electors of president 
for 1788 and 1792, and had the privi- 
lege of voting for Washington and 
sustaining his administration ; was 
appointed by his fellow-citizens to 
address Washington in 1789. when 
Washington visited Portsmouth. His 
address and Washington's answer may 
now he found in Brewster's Rambles 
About Portsmouth. About the end 
of the year 1795, upon his resignation 
of the office of judge of our state 
court, he was appointed by Washing- 
ton to the office of district judge of New 
Hampshire. It was suggested that the 
health of Judge Pickering at this time- 
was not firm, and this change of office 
was made because the duties required 
of the incumbent of the district court 
were less laborious than the requisi- 
tions of the state bench. And we 
have the authority of Gov. Plumer 
for the assertion, that the hypochon- 
dria of 1794, of judge Pickering, as it 
was then called, had in 1S03 been de- 
veloped into such a condition, bodily and 
mental, as to render him incompetent 
to the proper discharge of his official 
duties. It was not doubted his mental 
powers were deranged. Then the 
question arose, how to get rid of the 
judge from the bench. On the 4th of 
February, 1803, President Jefferson 
sent his message to the House of Rep- 
resentatives, enclosing a letter and 
affidavits exhibiting a complaint 
against Judge Pickering. The message 
and papers were referred to a commit- 
tee consisting of Nicholson of Mary- 
land, James A. Bayard of Delaware, 
John Randolph of Virginia, Tenney of 
New Hampshire, and Elmendorf of 
New York, with instructions to report 
thereon. On the eighteenth of Feb- 
ruary, Mr. Nicholson made his report, 
recommending the adoption of the 
following resolution : Resolved, Thai 
John Pickering, judge of the New 
Hampshire district court, be impeach- 

ed of high crimes and misdemean- 

This report came up for considera- 
tion on the second day of March, 
1803, a day or two before the close of 
the session of that Congress. Goddard 
of Connecticut moved its postpone- 
ment to the 'next session. This motion 
was sustained by the mover. Mitchell 
of Sew York, Dana of Connecticut, 
and Mott of Pennsylvania It was 
rejected by the House, and the reso- 
lution was adopted. Messrs Nichol- 
son and Randolph were appointed 
managers, by the House, to conduct 
proceedings before the Senate. The 
House resolution was transferred to the 
Senate, and was there postponed to the 
next session. At the session of 1S04 
the trial came oil. Gov. Plumer was 
then one of the senators from this 
state. He states that both of the 
New Hampshire senators were exam- 
ined as witnesses as to the character 
of Judge Pickering, and testified to 
the high moral worth of the judge, so 
long' as he retained the use of his 
reason. Here then was exhibited, be- 
fore one of the highest tribunals of 
our land, the extraordinary attempt to 
interpret mental insanity in its mean- 
ing and consequences, as tantamount 
to crime and misdemeanor — an un- 
warrantable attempt to confound all 
distinction of law and justice which, when 
carried into practice, would pervert 
the constitutional provision of im- 
peachment for. crime into an unconsti- 
tutional mode of removal from office 
without crime. Senator Samuel White 
of Delaware on this occasion used the 
following strong denunciatory language : 
He said, <; the accused is in default not 
in consequence of contempt of court, 
but under the awfed visitation of God, 
and as he is mentally deranged, our 
proceedings scarcely deserve the name 
of a mock trial." Nicholson, senator 
from Virginia, here called out, '' Order ! 
Order ! Order ! I will not permit our 
proceedings to be called by the name 
of a mock trial." 

Mr. White said to the president, 
"I am in order, sir, I repeat: it, 
it is a mock trial. I have no wish 



to give offense, but if that gen- 
tleman is offended, I am ready to 
give him satisfaction at any time and 
place." The president gave no rebuke 
to the panies. No meeting followed 
their words. Gov. Plumer informs 
us, that the impeachment met with 
strenuous opposition in the Senate. 
The measure was carried at last by the 
vote of seventeen to seven nays — sev- 
ered senators refusing to vote. The 
whole Senate then consisted of thirty- 
two ; only twenty-four voted for the 
resolution ; two-thirds were required 
to impeach, judge Pickering was not 
present, nor was he represented by 
counsel. It occurs to us his removal 
may have been justly demanded be- 
cause his disease was shown to have been 
incurable, and his office probably requir- 
ed an incumbent able to work. Vet, 
admitting the public necessity of his 
removal, we cannot come to the con- 
clusion that the constitution of the 
United States, or its wise framers, ever 
contemplated, that in order to effect 
the removal of a judge, admitted to 

be insane, the sole remedy must exist 
in the open and serious charge or alle- 
gation of committing some crime or 
misdemeanor, when At is obvious to 
every one, that his mental status is of 
that character as to render him. not 
responsible for the commission of any 
offense. The provision for removal by 
impeachment was evidently designed 
to apply to cases of actual guilt, fully 
sustained by ample proof. In this case 
the severe charge is alleged, but the 
proof of guilt is wanting. Hence, the 
trial deserved Senator White's denun- 
ciation. If the public good demanded 
Judge Pickering's removal from office, 
why not resort to such a remedy, rather 
than to the harsh, unjust remedy of 
imputing crime where none has been 
committed. We are glad to know 
that all our- New Hampshire delega- 
tion in Congress, and such men as 
Huger, Griswold, John C.Smith, James 
A. Bayard of Delaware, and many 
other able men in both branches were 
found in opposition to this ., ickdd pro- 


BY L. P. DODGE, M. E. 

The divide, known as Surry Moun- 
tain, rises a short distance north of the 
city of Keene, and gradually ascending, 
reaches its greatest altitude, 1,500 feet, 
at a point nearly opposite the village of 
Surry, eight miles from the outcrop of 
its foot-hills at Keene. The general bear- 
ing of the divide is north, with a mark- 
ed deflection to the northwest, about 
one mile from the north limit of its 
boundary. At this point the Ashuelot 
river swings to the south, from the east, 
and in its passage through the range 
has made a canyon, the descent from the 
mountain top to the river bed being in 
places almost perpendicular. The view 
from White Rock, the highest peak, is 

one of exceeding beauty, combining the 
rugged sublimity ; 'of the Sierras with 
the softened beauty of fair fields, dotted 
with New England homes ; while in the 
east Monadnock and Wachuset, and 
in the north Crawford and Mt. Wash- 
ington, rear their majestic heads, and 
send a greeting to the giant guardian 
of Ashuelot's lovely vale. The mountain 
forms an integral part of the great 
mineral belt, ranging from New Bruns- 
wick, S. S. W., through Maine, New 
Hampshire and Vermont, a part of 
western Massachusetts and eastern 
New York, sinking at the Hudson 
liver, and reappearing in southern 
Pennsylvania and western Maryland, 

i 3 6 


Virginia and North Carolina. In Sew 

Brunswick the depoits are largely anti- 
nToniali While in New England the an- 
timony is displaced by argentiferous 

galena, occasionally gold, and in a few 
instances, copper. Among the latter the 
Ely Mine, at Vershire, Vermont, with 
the single exception of the Calumet 
and Hecla, i.s the most profitable Ameri- 
ca;! copper mine now worked, yielding 
an annual profit of some $400,000. The 
upheaval in the formation of tiie veins 
disseminated the mineral on this belt, 
and hence we find copper at the Ely, at 
Vershire, gold at the Essex, at Lis- 
bon), and argentiferous galena at 
the Sullivan mine ; while by some 
peculiar law of the great convulsion, 
the elements of these localities 
seemed to have converged at Surry 
Mountain, forming a great mother vein, 
in which — and in its associate feeders — ■ 
we find almost in juxtaposition, gold, 
silver, copper and galena, the gold 
associated with pyrites of iron, and oc- 
casionally occuring as free gold,, the 
silver in the form of black sulphur- 
ets and argentiferous galena, ilecked in 
spots with gray copper — or hy- 
drate of silver — and the copper as 
carbonates, sulphurets and native, many 
specimens of the copper being very 
beautiful, occuring as leaves, fern 
shaped, and minute wires interwoven 
with crystalline quartz. The copper dis- 
coveries thus far are quite similar to 
the vein matter found at the same depth 
in the celebrated Santa Rita mine in 
New Mexico,} which, even with its ex- 
travagant management, rates of trans- 
portation and costly labor, added to 
the interruption of operations incident to 
the forays of Indians, has proven very 
remunerative. Touching the mineral 
deposits of Surry Mountain there is a 
singular unanimity of opinion, among 
experienced miners, as to the similarity 
of appearance in the outcrop to that of 
the mining country south of the Arkan- 
sas river, on the eastern slope of the 
Rockies, and on beyond, through New- 
Mexico and south eastern Arizona, 
coupled with surprise at finding such 
deposits in what they had supposed to 
be, per st, m agricultural district. Al- 

though the existence of these ore veins 
has been an established fact for nearly 
an. hundred years, the difficulties at- 
tendant upon the establishment of 
proper reduction works, and the gen- 




ntormition as to the 
methods of working, now in successful 
operation, has heretofore prevented the 
utilization of tins great source of wealth. 
And again, the original settlers came 
here as farmers or traders, and with the 
conservatism characteristic of the 
average New Englander they were cau- 
tious in putting their hard-earned dollars 
into an enterprise where the issue seemed 
fraught with so much doubt. Yet,. even 
with these obstacles before them, some 
crude efforts were made to extract the 
lead, the only mineral they were famil- 
iar with, and these efforts were gener- 
ally quite successful and yielded no slight 
addition to the scanty incomes of half 
a century since. The Indians then lo- 
cated in this vicinity were aware of 
the existence of lead in the mountain, 
and the missiles that supplied the needs 
of the red man, and sent some of them 
to their happy hunting grounds, were 
taken from veins, as yet lying undis- 
covered in the forests of this grand old 
range. A tradition comes down to the 
present day of workings by a party of 
Spaniards, who made a cutting and took 
out ore some ninety years ago. The 
adit, or open cut, being now traceable, 
although an attempt was made to con- 
ceal the discovery, as was their prac- 
tice in the eat!}' days in New and Old 
Mexico. The first practical workings 
of modern times were commenced by 
the Granite State Gold and Silver Min- 
ing Company, in November, 1879, 
although considerable prospecting had 
been done prior to the date named, and 
mineral taken out, assaying £190 per 
ton. The parties engaged in the work, 
however, were lacking in the financial 
ability, experience and persistence re- 
quisite for the management of an enter- 
prise of this character, and nothing was 
accomplished in the developement of 
their discoveries, until sometime in the 
summer of 1879, when the matter was 
presented to the attention of Mr. M 
Milleson, a mining engineer of Nevada* 


Mr. Milleson, sharing in the general ; commenced on the first of October, 
opinion of mining engineers of the Pa- i8-So, and on the sixth day of Novem- 
ciiic coast at that time, was decidedly j her following, the scream of the mill 
sceptical as to the existence of ore- whistle sent "the wild echoes flying" 
bodies in paying quantities among the ! o'er hill and dale, and the pioneer mjn- 
New England hills, and consented to '< ing works of Surry Mountain were in 
examine the property, more for the j operation, Prior to this, the company 
satisfaction of others, than from any con- , had consiructed a first-class wagon 
fidence in the correctness of their opin- j road from the valley to the mill door. 
ions as to its value. The casual view | upon which their heavy machinery, 
of the property, which he anticipated j lumber and supplies were transport- 
would convince him of its lack of merit, ed, with as little difficulty as upon 
was lengthened day by day, and week any of the average country roads, 
by week, until nearly two months were j an item of no slight importance^, 
spent in a most exhaustive investigation when compared with some of the 
of the different localities then opened : writer's experiences in trails of 
up, until at last he was fully satisfied of j the Rockies. The plant at present in 
its great value ; and an arrangement was j operation consi.^ts of a 40 horse-power 
effected by which the property was j boiler, a No. 2 Worth ington-purap, a. No. 
transfered to the company mentioned, j 1 Burleigh air- compressor, two No. 1 
The first workings were on the western \ Burleigh rock drill-, fitted Cm workina 
slope of the mountain in a quartz de- on columns, a double acting hoisting 
posit, similar in character to the veins j engine, with 400 feet steel wive cable. 
of Mount Davidson, where are located | The hoistci is located; some eighty i^a 
the great bonanza mines, and cuttings I irom the boiler and. compressor, awl 
made in several of the veins with a I connected by pipes, carefully boxed 
view of developing the best location j and insulated, carried over and sup- 
for the works ; and in every instance the ported by wire cables, thus avoiding 
most encouraging evidences were man- I the obstruction of trestles. The build- 
ifest of the existence of large bodies j ings, ail new. are a boarding house, 
of gold and silver bearing quartz on the | manager's house and office, a mil!, 50 
mountain. The manager was pur- j by 20, the rear end of which is fitted 
suing his investigations, and prospect- ' on the ground floor with sleeping ac- 
ing personally in other locations, which ! commodatious for workmen, and on 
his experience convinced him would ; the upper floor, a room for the fore- 
result in even more favorable discover- i man overlooking the entire mill, a 
ies ; and his efforts were at last reward- j shaft-house, ore-house, engine-house, 
ed by the location of the now celebrat- j and blacksmith shop, furnished with all 
ed Carpenter vein. It was decided to ] the appliances requisite for the manu- 
concentrate all their force at this point, j facture of the somewhat complicated 
and leave the working of the other 1 drills used in drilling by power, a 
properties for a subsequent date. A j magazine, in which is stored nearly a 
shaft was sunk by manual labor to a I ton of rend-rock, together with battery, 
depth of twenty feet, showing a fine | exploders, conducting wire, et cetera, 
body of argentiferous galena, associa- j and a stable with accommodations for 
ted with gray copper, copper-carbon- 1 five horses. The company own about 
ates and native copper, while in the ! two thousand feet on the Carpenter 
quartz adjoining this vein were found ' vein, with all its dips, spurs and angles, 
masses of gold-bearing sulphurets, the j an abundance of most excellent tim- 
entire product being admirably adapt- | ber for building and fuel, and an unfaii- 
ed to the cheap process of reduction i ing spring o( pure water, connected by 
known as concentration. Contracts \ pipes with the mill, the reservoir having 
were made with the Burleigh Rock j a capacity of some 40,000 gallons. It 
Drill Company for an entire plant of I is the intention of the company to 
developing machinery. The buildings j erect, next spring, concentration works 



adjoining the mill to reduce the ore to 
concentrates, in which condition it is 
sold to the great smelting and reduc- 
tion works of this country and Eng- 
land. The process of ore concentra- 
tion is purely mechanical, being only 
dependant upon the relative specific 
gravities of the different minerals to be 
separated. The cost for labor as com- 
pared with that of smelting or refining, 
is but slight, ordinary laborers being 
easily taught the necessary manipula- 
tions. The cost of the plant 
requisite for concentrating thirty tons 
daily is only about £5000 ; while a 
smelting plant of equal capacity would 
cost nearly five times as much.. The 
expense of concentrating being, less 
than one dollar per ton, as against 
twenty-five for fine reduction, the 
company will be able to realize from 
their product and arrive at the happy 
era of dividend paying in an expedi- 
tious and inexpensive manner. The 
president of the company, A. H. Sod- 
en, is an eminent and successful 
merchant of Boston, whose name is a 
synonym for incorruptible integrity, and 
whose extensive experience in mercan- 
tile affairs has taught him the impor- 
tance of painstaking research before 
identifying himself with so important 
an enterprise. The large interest he 
has in the companv is the best evidence 

of his confidence in its merit. H. L. 
White, the treasurer, with an 
equally high character for probity, has 
brought to the financial management 
of the company affairs, an executive 
ability second to none. No debts are 
allowed to accrue in any of the de- 
partments : and while everything requis- 
ite for successful operation is cheer- 
fa'!}' furnished, yet a jealous, watchful 
care is manifested by them to avoid 
prodigality, as well as parsimony, fully 
realizing that they are but eostodians of 
funds intrusted to them by the public, 
upon which returns are to be made in the 
shortest possible time. The intricate- 
details of the secretary's department 
are happily confided to J. F. Hill, 
a late merchant of Wmchendon, 
whose ability renders him a most val- 
uable member of the executive board. 
Among the board of directors are, 
we note, the names of Dr. I. W. Rus- 
sell, mayor-elect of Keene, and Hon. 
G. K. Harvey of Surry, all of which is 
indicative of the esteem in which the 
property is held among men of charac- 
ter and wealth. The mine is a most 
valuable mineral body, the construction 
and operating department, and the finan- 
cial and executive management challenge 
criticism, and in its success stands 
another proud monument of enterprise 
in the old Granite State, 


This town history, written by Rev. W. told by a writer so eloquent. The chapter • 

R. Cochrane, and printed at the estab- 
lishment of Col. John Bi Clark, is a 
timely addition to local New Hampshire 

on the Scotch-Irish and their descend- 
ants is of especial value. The geneal- 
ogies are exhaustive, and the book is 

History. It is faithfully compiled and ! illustrated very fully by steel-engravings, 
contains evidence of much careful j 'portraits and heliotype views. It costs 
study and elaborate research. It is S3. 00, and contains over 700 pages. 
well written, and the town of Antrim | The work is published by the town, 
should be proud of having its story | and is sold by the selectmen. 





The records of Chester commence 
with the proceedings of a meeting of 
the "Society for settling the Chestnut 
Country, held at said country, the fif- 
teenth of October, 1719." The society 
had probably existed some time, and 
was composed principally of Hamp- 
ton and Portsmouth men. After- 
ward duplicate records were kept 
at Hampton. The number of the 
society was restricted to ninety. 
The}- had preferred a petition to the 
Governor and Council, and in March, 
1720, it was withdrawn, and another 
presented. The}' also voted to keep 
three men on the ground, and a pos- 
session fence was built. They also laid 
out lots before obtaining any grant. 
Tins meeting was probably at Walnut 
hill, near the south east comer of the 
township. There was also another 
company of Massachusetts men, head- 
ed by John Calf, who were endeavor- 
ing to procure a grant. John Calf was 
a clothier at the Falls, in Newbury, and 
was a grantee under the charter of 
Chester, and moved, and carried on the 
trade there. They also tried to have 
possession. There is a deed on the 
records to Samuel Ingalls of "Cheshire," 
blacksmith, dated Oct. 23,1717. Heap- 
pears afterward, indeed, to be of Haver- j 
hill, but he had a constructive residence 
in Chester, and a constructive pos- 1 
session of the territory. There seems, by | 
the House and Council records, to have 
been other parties endeavoring to ob- 
tain a grant. There is a deed on 
Rockingham records, dated May, 1722, 
wherein Stephen Dudley, of Freetown 
(Raymond), in consideration of affec- 
tion, conveys to Francis James of Glou- j 
ccster, his right to 400 acres in Free- \ 
town to be taken out of that tract j 
bought of Peter Penuit, and Abigail his j 
squaw, by dccA, dated Jan. 17, 1718. I beavers were kille< 

color of title, and possession for some 
of the parties. There was a compromise 
made by admitting certain persons of the 
Massachusetts part)', and also of Ex- 
eter, and a grant was obtained Jan. 
4, 1720; but the charter of the town 
was dated May 8, 1722. The gov- 
ernor, and lieutenant-governor, had 
each a farm 500 acres, and a home lot, 
by a vote of the society ; and the char- 
ter provided that the first settled 
minister should have a right, also one 
for a parsonage, and one for a school. 
The boundaries commenced at the 
south-east corner, at the supposed in- 
tersection of Haverhill and Kingstown 
lines. In 1674. Haverhill lines were 
run from Holt's Rocks (a little east of 
the Rock bridge), north-west; cue 
from Merrimack river due north, until 
it cut the first line. 

At this spot was il erected a great 
pillar of stones," which two old men, 
more than sixty years ago, told me they 
had seen in Chester South \\~Gods. 
When the province line was settled in 
1741. Daniel McDufTee and Hugh 
McDuffee, who lived near Kimball's 
corner in Derry, were cut off from 

When the town was laid out in- 
to lots, there were t 1 7 grantees; and 
each member of the council had a 
right. The home lots of 20 acres, from 
the corner by Kingstown, and the old 
Haverhill line, to the head of Chester 
street, and a ten rod way crossing at 
right angles where the Centre now is, 
on which the first meeting house was 
built, were laid out in 1719, be- 
fore any grant was made, in 1724, 
an additional lot oi 50 acres was 
laid out to edeh grantee. The 
beavers had built darn-; on the stream, 
which killed the growth, and when the 

This was probably a move for | down, the grass came in. an 






a meadow lot was laid out to each right. 
There is a stream, which heads near 
the Congregational church in Auburn, 
extending into Londonderry, with mead- 
ows, which was called the "Long- 
meadow ;" and what is now Auburn, 
was the " Long Meadows." In 1 728, 
the first part of the second division of 
100 acres, called th.- ''Old Hundreds," 
which is the present town of Raymond ; 
iii 1736 the second pari of the second 
division of 100 acres;- in 1739 tae 
third division of So acres, all in Candia ; 
in 1745 the fourth division of 60 acres ; 
and in 1 752 the fifth division of 40 acres, 
all in Hooksett, were laid out. Maps 
of these divisions were made at the time, 
and have been presen ed by copying, and 
all deeds gave the number and division 
of the lot so that we can locate every 
settler whose deed is on record. The 
first settler was Samuel Ingalls, born in 
Andover, 1683. and moved to Haver- 
hill, and had children before coming 
to Chester ;and his daughter Mehctabie, 
born 1 7.23, was the first child born in 
Chester. She married Samuel Moore, 
who afterwards lived at Candia corner. 
She died 1818. There is a tradition 
that he came to Chester, in 1720. In 
March, 1722, Samuel Ingalls of Win- 
field, otherwise Cheshire, sold a right 
reserving the home lot, number 64. "un 
which I live." He built the first farm- 
house about 1732; held the office of 
moderator, selectman and town clerk. 
In 1731, Samuel Ingalls is styled 
captain on the record, and 
Dearborn, lieutenant, and Jacob Sar- 
gent, ensign, which was the first military 
organization. January, 1720. he 
and three others had land and a privi- 
lege granted to build a saw-mill, and 
in 1730 John Aiken had a grant of 
land to build a grist-mill. 

Londonderry was granted to settlers, 
already on the ground, bat there were 
but six of the original grantees of 
Chester who ever lived here, except the 
Rev. Moses Hale, the first minister who 
settled on the minister's lot. The first 
settlement was at Walnut Hill, near 
the south-east comer, but settlers soon 
came in from different parts and. settled 
in different places. Tire charter pro- 

vided thai every proprietor should 
build a house and settle a family in 
three years, and break up and plant 
three acres in four years, and a meet- 
ing-house should be built in four years, 
provided that there should be no Indi- 
an war in that time. The settlers, who 
were grantees, were Samuel Ingalls; 
William I leak}' of Hampton Falls; 
Dea. Ebenczer Dearborn of Hampton, 
who had five sons ; Nathan Webster 
of Bradford, who had three sons ; 
John Calf who lived in Chester ; and. 
Thomas Smith of Hampton. 

The sons of grantees were John and 
Samuel Robinson, of Ichabod of 
Hampton Falls ; Ephraim, Thomas, 
and John Haselton, sons of Richard of 
Bradford ; Anthony and Francis 
Towle, sons of Caleb* of Hampton, 
and Flisha. a grandson, settled in Ray- 
mond ; and John Shackford, son of 
Samuel of Portsmouth ; and Samuel 
Emerson, son of Jonathan of Haver- 
hill. His name first appears on the 
records in 1731, when he was elected 
town clerk, and was reelected every year 
until 1787, when he died. His son 
lohn succeeded him until 1817. He 
was a land-surveyor, ami laid out trie 
second part of the second division in 
1.736, and all subsequent divisions. 
He did all the surveying and wrote 
most of the deeds. He was a man of 
such judgment and integrity, and the 
people had such confidence in him 
that nearly ail the minor controversies 
were referred to him without any legal 
formalities, and his decision was be- 
yond appeal or review. His son, 
Nathaniel, was a prominent man in 
Candia. Among the early settlers were 
Enoch and Benaiah Colby ; and Paul 
and Sylvanus Smith of Hampton ; 
Ensign Jacob Sargent from Amesbury ; 
Sampson Underbill from Salisbury ; 
Cornet John Lane from Rye ; Henry, 
Jonathan and Nathaniel Hall from 
Bradford ; Thomas, Moses, Daniel, 
and Caleb Richardson ; also, Benjamin 
Hill, who was the first representative 
elected, but not received ; and Abel 
Morse, who was the first representative 
received, from Newbury : who were 
Coiv^reLfationalists. Then of the Scotch- 



Irish, who were Presbyterians; the 
grandfather, James Wilson, who died 
1739, aged 100 ; the soil, James, and 
his four sons, William, James. Robert 
and Hugh. They came Trim Ireland 
to Stratham, thence to Chester in 1 728 ; 
Alexander Craige, William White, Wil- 
liam Crawford, John Talforii, William 
and Robert Graham, John Aiken and 
James Shirley. In 172*8, the meeting- 
house was located at "Centre where 
four principal roads met," near the 

in an 


exc ellent handwrii 
and nohle se ntinuu 

was, an act waV 

Vg, and hin- 
ts ; and the 
issed, 1 740, 
incorporating two parishes. 1 have 
one of Mr. Wilson's manuscript ser- 
mons dated iiijL. There was a sm 




I preaching 

I two were taken dow 

1 .>-+ 
:ise bui 
was th 

. at 



In 1 


of tin 

/9 3, tnc 

and a new one 

minister's lot 

The dimensions were 

at the Loneuneadows. Mr. Wil- 

son died February 
ed in state;! si 


9, sue 
! > v a 


was erected, and since has been mod- 

In 1729, Mr. John Tuck, of Hamp- 
ton, was called to be the minister with 
a salary of ^120, which he declined. 
January 15, 1829. Rev. .Moses Hale 
was called to be the minister with a 
salary of £120, He was ordained 
October 20, 1731. He was born at 
Newbury, 1702; graduated,, Harvard, 
1722. He built a house on the minister's 
lot, and purchased Gov. Wentworth's 
borne lot, which was sold to his succes- 
sor, Rev. Ebenezer Flagg. Mr. Hale 
soon became deranged, and was dis- 
missed in 1735 and moved to Haver- 
hill. June, 1 735, Rev. Timothy White 
was called, but declined. June 23, 
1736, Rev. Ebenezer Flagg was called, 
with a salary of 120 pounds, silver at 
20 shillings per ounce. He was or- 
dained September, 1736. He was 
born at Woburn, October 18, 1704; 
graduated, Harvard, 1725; died No- 
vember 14, 1796; and was succeeded 
by Rev. Nathan Bradstreet, 1792. 

The Presbyterians joined in building 
the meeting-house and paying Mr. 
Hale ; but before he left they had 
hired the Rev. John Wilson, and after- 
wards built a meeting-house about a 
mile south of the other ; and they 
protested against hiring or settling any 
other minister. They appealed to the 
governor and counsel by a document, 

Colby, installed 1863. 

fifty by thirty-five feet, arid each pro- | Clark, Mr. Amran, and others, and Mr. 

prictor was to pay forty shillings. The 

house was not finished until several 

years afterwards, and in 1 737 land was 

granted to Peter and Thomas Cochran, 

the builders. This house stood until 

177"?, when a new and noble house 

1 have before mentioned the first 
grant for a saw-mill to Samuel [ngalls 
and others, and -\ grist-mill to John 

Aiken. About 1 734. John Calf moved to 
Chester, and in 1735, had a grant of 
land and privilege to build a fulling mill 
on the stream running into the pond, 
a! iove the present mill-pond. There pro - 
bably was none to the north of it, for a 
longtime, and an extensive business was 
done. His son, Robert, succeeded 
him and built a saw-mill there. Sam- 
uel Shirley had built a corn mill on the 
present site, and Calf's dam being cut 
away, he and his son-in-law, Joseph 
Blanchard, purchased' Shirley's in 1777, 
the privilege has been used for a 

a iid 

cloth in - mill, and 

for other manufactures. 

In 1739, land and privilege was 
granted to John McMurphy to build a 
grist-mill on Massabesic river, below 
the pond, reserving the right to build 
iron -works, should ore be found. The 
first inventory on record was, in 1741, 
returned to the secretary's office to 
make a proportion of province rates, 
on which are 150 names, 124 houses, 
97 horses, 78 oxen. In 1767, there 
were males unmarried, from 16 to 60, 
116, married 168, over 60, 24; fe- 
males unmarried 295, married 153 ; 
slaves 9; widows 34; total or 6. In 
1744, a writ for the election of a repre- 
rentative was sent to Chester by the 
governor, and Benjamin Hill was elect- 
ed, but was sent back, because the 
writ was not issued by the assembly. 
In 1 74S, Captain Abel Morse was re- 



The committee of Che society voted 
that when the next proprietor forfeited 
his lot, it should be appropriated to a 
school ; January, 1721. In 1 737, J^o 
were raised for a school : the master 
to be removed to different parts of the 
town. In 1 740. it was voted that a 
school should be maintained through 
the year, partly by masters and partly 
by dames. In 1744. die town was 
divided and school-houses built proba- 
bly then. It was voted in 1750, that 
Charming Fare (Candia) and Free- 
town (Raymond) should have their 
share of the school money. The 
town was required by law, having 
too families, to have a grammar school. 
The selectmen were once indicted 
for not having such a school. 

It will be seen that Chester was a 
very large town, and now constitutes 
several towns. At the annual meeting, 
March, 1751, it was voted that "a tract 
at the south-west corner of the town, 
four miles long and five miles and three 
quarters wide, may be adjoined to a 
part of Londonderry, and the lands 
about Amoskeag may be set off as a 
separate parish." The land between 
Chester and the river calied Harry - 
town had never been incorporated into 
any town. 

Chester old line was about a mile 

from the city hall oi" Manchester. 
Tin's was incorporated into a township, 
called Derryfield, September 3, 175 1. 
The; name was altered to Manchester, 
1 8 1 o . 

At the annual meeting, March, 1762, 
"voted that a tract about four miles and 
a half long, and four miles wide, may 
be incorporated into a parish ;" incor- 
porated December 17, 1763; named 
Candia. At a meeting, January 22, 
1763, it was voted "that the north par- 
ish or Freetown, shall be set of as a 
town or parish ;" incorporated by the 
name of Raymond, May 9, 1764. 

The inhabitants of that part of Ches- 
ter, commonly called "Chester Woods," 
extending to Allenstown. suffering in- 
conveniencies, the farthest having to 
travel seventeen miles to town meeting, 
preferred petition to be set off, and at 
the annual meeting March, 1S22, the 
town passed a vote in favor, and July 
2. this, with a part of Dunbarton, was 
incorporated by the name of Hook- 

In 1845 tne town was divided, and 
the west part, which had been called 
the Longmeadows, containing about 
two fifths of the territory, and inhabi- 
tants, was incorporated by the name of 


The Laconia Democrat cites a New I that New Hampshire was represented 
Hampshire member of the National \ at that convention by five delegates — 

Dfmnrnfir r'nrn/^ntinn r\f i >s - ~> iv1ii'*V> ' on** r\ r-l^trn tf* failinrr t n Tint in HT1 3TV 

Democratic Convention of 1852, which 
nominated Franklin Pierce, as au- 
thority for the statement that the 
New Hampshire delegation was not 
consulted by the Convention as 
the nominee ; that no balloting tool 
place as described on page 96 of the 
current volume of this magazine : and 

one delegate failing to put in an ap 
j pearance. The story has been so long 
; uncontradicted, that it has been ac- 
I cepted as true. We design the Gran- 
to I ite Monthly to be authority on histori- 
| cal topics, and hope reasonable care 
I will be exercised by our contributors 
! in substantiating their statements. 






Z June — , 1 86—-. 

My clear friend : I have again left the 
Hague. I have been ill. seriously ill. 
I was attacked by a nervous fever, which 
for several days deprived me of all 
knowledge of the exterior world. My 
good landlady faithfully nursed me. and 
from her I learned in what condition I 
had been for nine days. At length I 
am better, and am going to travel, 
where, I do not yet know. 

When I was capable of examining 
the papers, which had accumulated on 
my table during my days of confine- 
ment, I found the card of my uncle, 
the minister, who came in person to in- 
quire for me. Tee worthy uncle Bad 
heard that I had become a millionaire. 
I also found a bundle of letters from 

Overberg and Van Beck, \vh 


not the courage to read ; one, however, 
which had on the envelope the word 
important, was an exception. It an- 
nounced the death of my great- uncle, 
Von Zwenken, and invited me to be 
present at the funeral. It was three 

weeks since this letter came 


had become of Frances? 

Doubtless she continue*:' to be dis- 
affected toward me. She knew nothing 
of my sickness, since she invited me to 
her grandfather's funeral. What could 
she think of my silence? What trouble 
must she have had from the lawyers ! 
T was wishing to ask my doctor for leave 
to depart immediately for Z— -. when I 
heard some one coming up the stairs 
towards my room, putting my landlady 
aside, that staid guardian of my quiet, 
and I saw enter my room, without any 
ceremony— -you could not guesswho 
in a thousand times — Rolfe himself, 
the captain whom I had ended by lov- 
ing almost as much as I detested him 
in the beginning, j.::-; t .318 

'' My general is dead, " said lie, with 
tears in his eyes ; " he died in my arms ; 
Frances was not there." 

" Still, she is not ill?" I interrupted 

'•' Not at all, she is wonderfully well ; 
but besides — she has sent me away." 

"What do mean?' " 

" Oh ! it is not at all from badness. 
It is because she does not intend to re- 
main at the castle. She is temporarily 
at the farmer's, and is not willing to 
tell where <hc intends to go." 

" But tell me then what has hap- 

" Oh, yes ; the general did not dare 
to write against her will to Mr. Over- 
berg in the manner you wished. He 
left the matter in doubt. As no'-letter 
wasreceivedfrom you, these ink-slingers 
lost patience, and Mr. Overberg, driven 
on, as I think, by that other chap at 
Utrecht, wrote a letter to Miss Mor- 
daunt to ask if she was engaged to 
you — yes or no. You can guess her 
reply, curt and dry, but without a word 
of blame to you. 1 know that she 
greatly reproached herself: that hap- 
pened from the very day you left." 

" After receiving my package? " 

"She has received nothing from 

" That is very surprising." 

" No, not at all surprising. Fverv- 
thiug went to the devil with us after 
you left. But I see some sherry here : 
can I help myself? " 

" Certainly, Captain." 

"Yes. when you left, she fell in a dead 

faint. That had never happened to 

her in all her life. I was almost ashamed 

for her. But she loved you so much, as 

she confessed to me, crying, when she 

had regained her consciousness ; and 

| when we thought that she was resting in 

i her room, she ran secretly to the farm, 

I had Tancred saddled, and set off at a 



fearful speed. We dined without her, 
but we had but very little appetite. Jt 
was much worse m the evening, »vhe'n 
the farmer's son came to tell us that 
Tancred had come hack alone, cov- 
ered with foam and saddleless." 

" An accident, " I exclaimed, beside 

" Oh ! nothing but a sprained foot, 
and we found her under the old oak on 
the moss, near the castle. She had 
dragged herself along to there, and was 
resting a little. She begged us to let 
her die, and charged us not to tell 

" She loves me still ! " said I, trans- 

" That is only too true. We learned 
that she had started in full galop to- | 
wards the city ; then, that, as she drew 
near, she wished to change her direc- 
tion, and returned by the woods of the 
castle ; but it seems that she must have 
over-ridden Tancred, oi- else that she 
had crossed the reins. It is certain that 
he began to cut capers : he reared and 
threw his nMer. We carried our young 
lady to tne sofa in the saloon ; die sur- 
geon declared that there was. nothing 
dangerous, but -that she must at least 
remain quiet for some days." 

" And you did not write me anything 
about it ? " 

" Hem ! you were gone — indeed I 
wanted to write to you and she also, 
and she did send you a letter." 

" Which 1 have not received." 

" No, for the farmer's son was to give 
it to you yourself at Z — ; but when he 
reached there he was told that you had 
gone. He brought hack the letter, 
which she tore up, saying, k I did not 
deserve anything better.' " 

" Oh ! if I had been able to foresee 
that," said I to myself. *• But, my 
dear captain. I was suffering cruelly. I 
was ill, more so than I believed ; but 
still, how does it happen that what I 
sent was not delivered to her? " 

"What would you have? Every- 
thing was topsy-turvy. The General 
always had the letters and packages 
brought to him, and he scolded so when 
he saw them corning in those last days 
that Fritz did not dare to give them to 

htm. Miss Frances was hardly better, 
when those cursed business men began 
to send documents to the General. 

She was obliged to meet this brood en- 
tirely alone, for my poor Genera! was 
the victim of a second attack. These 
people were the cause of his death." 

The Captain forgot to add, what I 
afterwards learned, that he himself had 
hastened the baron's death by giving 
him old cognac, on the pretext of giv- 
ing him strength. 

" When he had closed his eyes." he 
continued, " the notary of Arnheim, 
who had the custody of the General's 
will, and Mr. Overberg, advised Frances 
to make an amicable arrangement with 
you ; but she would not listen to them. 
You understand ; it is in your name 
that they carried on their legal pro- 
ceedings against the general." 

"And while I was confined to my 
bed, ignorant of the whole matter !" 

"These pharisees knew that very 
well, but they had your written author- 
ity, and Frances said- 'That is the 
force he threatens me with ! And he 
imagines that I shall yield ! Never !' 
We could see that she was pale, 
but firm, when all those grimab 
kins came to the castle to take the 
inventory. After that, it was my turn, 
'My noble Rolfe,' she said to me, that 
is the way she knows how to take me, 
'My good Rolfe, tell me frankly, have 
you not sacrificed trie greater part of 
your inheritance to my grand-father?' 
'But no, but no, Maj — Miss, we have 
together consumed a small sum, which 
we drew as a prize in a lottery. The 
general wanted to try and see if with 
his part he could not do still better, 
but as for me, I preferred to use mine 
in giving us both a good time.' 'Then 
you have not inherited?' 'Pardon me, 
I have inherited a nice little farm in 
North Brabant, and to which I have 
always had the idea of retiring some 
day. ] could live there very genteelly ; 
I have also my pension in addition. 
Living is cheap in that country, and in 
want of a castle, Miss would find a 
very good room there.' 'Thanks, 
many thanks, my good captain. It is 
enough for roe to know that you can 



ve >- ifhout anxiety ; we must part, my 

Rolfe.' 'And where arc you 

;?' 'That 1 cannot tell you, but 

, ; cannot follow me.' In this way 

jCparnted, In passing through the 

I i gue. I learned that you were ill ; 

: tl made me think that you were 

rant of even' tiling." 

"Do you know what you must do, 
' ; Go back in an hour to Werve. I 
shall give you a letter which will stop all 
h gal proceeding's. To-morrow, or the 
day after, I will join you. Take care 
: ■ find my package." 

"Without doubt it is at Mr. Over- 
man's, with all the papers found at the 

"Let me know where Frances is now 
living, make her return to Werve, but 
do not tell her that she will see me 

At that moment my landlady brought 
me a telegram from Overberg in these 
words : ''Your immediate presence in- 
dispensable ; no arrangements possi- 
ble ; F. M. has left the castle." 

I hesitated no longer. Without 
waiting for the doctor's permission, 1 
hastily made my preparations. I was 
so stimulated by all this news that I 
had recovered all my strength. 

At my hotel at Z, I was greatly sur- 
prised to find a letter from Rudolf, who 
was still travelling with his company in 
the provinces of Guelders, and Over- 
yssel. "If you want to prevent Fran- 
ces," he said, ''from committing the 
greatest folly of her life, be sure and 
come and meet me to-morrow at the 
hotel of Halfway, between Z and L.' 
I confidently promised myself not to 
fail of being at the rendezvous. The 
same evening I went to Overberg's 
house, and he confirmed what I already 
knew, and explained to me what was 
still obscure. It was really Van Beck 
who had wished matters to be pushed 
to extremes, and I had no difficulty in 
securing all needed delay. lie told 
me, moreover, one tiling of which I 
v >'as ignorant. Another notary had 
sent a copy of a codicil drawn by Aunt 
Sophia's orders, the very evening of the 
night she died, and by which Miss 
Koselaer left to her grand-niece, Fran- 

I ces Mordauntj an annual income of 
| three thousand florins, in the event that 
! her marriage with .Mr. deZonshoven did 
not take place, and I was directed to 
pay tins to her on condition of her not 
marrying, except with my approval. 
How foreseeing Aunt Sophia always 
was ! I directed Overburg to commu- 
nicate the fact to Frances. She would 
find the letter announcing it at the 
castle. She would also find there my 
package, which I very soon recognized 
among the General's papers. Over- 
burg recognizing my handwriting, had 
wished to send it back to her, but Fran- 
ces had already left Werve. I repeat- 
ed my directions and left so to reach 
the place at the hour indicated. 

"The gentleman and lady are above," 
said the inn-keeper. 

I hastened to go up stairs, and dis- 
covered Rudolf and Frances almost 
concealed behind the balustrade of a 
platform which was used for the or- 
chestra in the large hall. Frances 
stood with her back towards me. I 
wished to let them know of my pres- 
ence, but words failed me. I ap- 
proached trembling. Rudolf was say- 
ing to Frances : 

''Nonsense, my dear ! You do not 
know the life you wish to lead. Lib- 
erty, independence ? you say ; but it 
is slavery, the whip included. Do you 
think that among us the lash is only 
used on the horses? Do you believe 
that women are gallantly treated,because 
in the presence of the public they are 
aided in mounting their horses? Mrs. 
Stonehorse herself is not spared by her 
gracious husband. And you would 
come with us, sensitive and proud as 
you are !" 

"What can be done?" answered 
Frances. "I know how to govern a 
horse, but I could not be a governess 
of children any more than I could 
earn my living by embroidering or sew- 
ing. I do not wish to kill myself, I 

have duties which compel me to live, 
and this is the only resource left to rne." 
"But, foolish that you are, why don't 
you reconcile yourself with youi <l-jusin 
deZonshoven? You would recover all 
at one stroke, your castle, a fine for- 

i/ f 6 


tunc, and a man who loves you, I v. ill 
answer for it." 

"Yes, and a man of rare loyalty," 

she replied hoarsely. 

"Bah, pardon his pecadillo. It was 

for your good that he lias lied the least 
bit to you. He also has something to 
pardon in yon, you have confessed that to 
me. Tell him you regret what you said. 
andyou will embrace and oil will be over. J; 

"Impossible, 1' tell you ii is too late." 

"Why too late, Frances? I exclaimed, 
not being able to sustain myself any 

''Leopold !" she said, growing pale 
and covering her face with her hands. 

"Frances." I began slowly, '-'you 
have always been my betrothed. Do 
you know that I have just risen from a 
sick-bed, and that I am not at all 
responsible for the sorrows that have 
been inflicted on you these last 
days? And have you nothing to 
reproach yourself for, in. not wishing 
to hear any explanation ? All may yet 
be repaired, PYances ; do not take 
away from me this last hope." 

"Be repaired, after you have threat- 
ened me witii force, and have executed 
your threat ! Flow would you like to 
have me marry you to-day, me, who 
was so happy to accept you for my 
husband in perfect liberty, in complete 
esteem for your character, and who 
must now accept you by necessity ?" 

" If you thus understand our rela- 
tive positions, Fiances, you are right. 
I can no longer be anything but hate- 
ful to you, and — I release you from 
your promise." 

"Thanks, but I had already taken 
steps so as not to need your generosity. 
I shall wander over the world. I have 
taken a step which separates me from 
all my past. I have made an agree- 
ment with Mr. Stonehorse, who is com- 
ing here, and to whom Rudolf is going 
to introduce me." 

*'Oh ! if you are waiting for Mr. 
Stonehorse this morning, you will wait 
a long time," Rudolf said coolly. "Do 
you think me fool enough, Frances, to 
lend my hind to such a whim ?" 

"Then you have not given my letter 
to your manager?" 

"I have done better, I warned cousin 
Leopold that you were going to com- 
mit an irreparable folly." 

"Ah ! is this the way you treat me? 
Well I shall not trouble myself about 
any one, I am going myself to find Mr. 
Stonehorse. I am free and — " 

"You will do nothing," I said to her 
authoritatively, seeing her arise to go 
away. "The General is dead, Rudolf 
is civilly dead, so that I am your near- 
est relative before the law, and I will 
not allow you in the flower of your age 
to throw yourself into one. of those 
abysses from which there is no escape." 

"But once more, what can I. do?" 
said she with despair, but still with some 
accent of submission. 

"Simply return to Werve where you 
will find a friend who has made all 
the preparations to receive you." 

"A friend?" she asked astonished. 

"Yes, Rolfe, who remains there until 
he has new orders. And do not fear 
being troubled by my presence. I am 
going away for a long journey." 

This declaration seemed to make a 
great impression on her, and she said 
to me in a tone which betrayed some- 
thing else than anger or ill-will ; 
"Truly are you going to travel, Leopold ? 
Well, I — I will remain at Wcrve. 
Adieu !" 

She fled hastily, shutting the door 
behind her. We soon heard her horse 
pawing the ground as he was led up to 
the door. "Ought I not to follow her 
to the castle?" said Rudolf. 

"No, this distrust would offend her." 

"But she is so rash on horseback S 
She has very recently been the victim 
of an accident." 

"True, I did not think of that. In 
heaven's name, follow her; but if you 
should be recognized?" 

"No fear of that. I am too well dis- 
guised ; just as you see me. I have 
been back more than once to Werve 
during my father's last illness. I was 
able to take his hand and he gave me 
this ring with his coat of arms on it. 
| As a matter of prudence I do not wear 
it on my finger, but fastened to a cord 
over my heart — and Frances herself 
permitted me to be there, she ever- 


. ht me in the time of her trouble. 
When the fair at L — is over, we shall 
| • ive this country and 1 shall never step 

foot on it again,*' he added, as he was 
m lunting his horse, and as he clasped 
my hand for the last time. 

We were not at the end of our sur- 
prises. Op, my return to Z— -, I found 
Qverburg waiting for me at the hotel. 
He had just received from England a 
package addressed to Frances, which 
Fritz was not willing to take, but which 
he did not know how to forward to the 
person for whom it was designed. I 
assured him that Miss Mordaunt had 
returned to the castle, and J myself 
forwarded the package by a special 
messenger. I was anxious to know 
what it contained, and I was despair- 
ing of finding any proper means of 
satisfying my curiosity, when, early the 
following morning, I saw old Fritz 
arrive with a note from his mistress 
which he was directed to give to no one 
but me. I tore open the envelope 
with a trembling hand and read : 

"My cousin, it is absolutely necessa- 
ry that I should see you before you go 
away. You have assured me that you 
will never refuse your kind aid to 2, 
woman who claims the privileges of her 
sex. May 1 hope that you will not re- 
fuse to come once more to YYerve to 
have a last interview with me ? » In- 
stead of writing to you. I should have 
preferred to come and find you myself; 
but I am afraid of scandalizing you. 
Let me know, by Fritz the dav and 


F. M " 

My reply was to start immediately 
with the faithful servant. Wavering 
between a thousand fears and a thou- 
sand hopes, I felt as if the whole world j 
was turning around me when I crossed 
the old bridge which led through the 
garden to the principal entrance. 
Rolfe was waiting for us on the steps 
and led me, without saying a word, 
into the huge saloon. 

Frances was seated on the sofa I 
knew so well, absorbed in thought, 
paler than the day before, but wonder- 
fully beautiful in her mourning dress. 
•She rose promptly and came toward me. 

"Thank you, Leopold, for coming so 
soon , 1 knew that you would come, 
1 counted on your generosity." 

"And — am J still contemptible in 
your eyes, Frances? You have re- 
ceived my package and read Aunt 
Sophia's letter?" 

"I have received all and read all. I 
did not need so much to see that I was 
to blame. Now I am willing to con- 
fess before all that I have done you a 
wrong. Do you pardon me without 
any reservation ?" 

"Do you need to ask, Frances? But 
on your side you will never suspect me 
again, will you ?" 

She remained silent for a moment, 
and then answered in a low voice : "No, 
never, never again !" 

I wanted to press her to my breast, 
but there was still some constraint, 
some embarrassment about her which 
restrained me. 

"Sit down, Leopold," she said. 
"Now that we are reconciled, I want to 
ask your advice, as my.nearest relative." 
At the same time she unfolded before 
me the package she had received from 

"Lord William is dead," she contin- 
ued : "please read this letter to me, 
which was found appended to his will." 

I had great difficulty, in my trouble, 
in understanding what I read ; never- 
theless, I managed to make it out. 
This letter was a short and serious fare- 
well, and expressed only sentiments of 
paternal love. Nevertheless, between 
the lines I read, that he was obliged 
to struggle with himself to restore 
calmness to his heart. Evidently, 
Lord William had carried away a pain- 
ful impression. Fie closed with ardent 
wishes for the happiness of his young 
friend, expressing his hope that she 
would some day find a husband worthy of 
her, arid begging her to receive as a 
wedding gift the legacy which he had 
left in his will — "in order," he said, 
"that no material consideration may 
force her to make any other choice 
than that of her heart." The name 
of Lord William's family was a name 
illustrious in science and in politics. 

A letter from his nephew, heir of his 



title and of his immense fortune, 
folio wed 3 in which Frances was assured 

of the disposition of the latter to scru- 
pulously cany out the will of the 
deceased. Frances found herself en- 
dowed with an annual income for her 
life of five thousand pounds sterling. 

" Ought I to accept, Leopold?" A\c 
asked me. 

" In my opinion, you cannot refuse, 
Frances, you have always passionate- 
ly wished for independence, and it is a 
friendly hand which offers h to you." 

"You are right, Leopold, I accept. 
Now my pride is no longer obliged to 
struggle with my heart. If I choose a 
husband, I cannot any longer be sus- 
pected of having yielded to necessity 
or cupidity. And shall I by this be 
rich enough to buy back Werve ?" 

" Werve belongs to one who will not 
part with it at any price. If you lav any 
stress on becoming the Baroness Werve, 
you must make another resolution." 

" Leopold," she said, rising, " you 
say that independence has always been 
my most ardent wish. That is possi- 

ble, but now 

understand th; 


greatest happiness will be to depend on 
the man 1 love. Leopold, Aunt 
Roselear has left me an annuity, which 
I do not accept, that is understood ; 
but her intentions towards me were 
kind, and I wish to follow the advice 
of my old relative. She has directed 
me not to marry without your consent. 
Well ! " 

Then, with an indefinable mixture 
of grace, confusion and malice, she 
kneeled before me and said : il Leo- 
pold, I would like to marry my cousin dc 
Zonshoven : have you any objections ? " 

Good heavens ! Objections ! With 
what happiness I raised her up and 
opened my arms to her, into which 
she threw herself with tears. I also 
wept, we loved each other so much and 
we had suffered so much for each other ! 

What can I tell you more ? We 
went to see 5 one after the other, those 
dear places which played so important 
a part in our recollections. We made 
all sorts of plans for the future. We 
wrote to Van Beck a fine letter in 
solemn phrases, to let him know that 

there was nothing more for him to do, 
but to present their little accounts. 
Frances's mourning served as a pretext 
for our being married quietly. One of 
my friends, a clergyman of a little city 
near by, gave us the wedding bene- 
diction. Little Harry Blount is now 
entrusted to our farmers, his mother is 
almost entirely cured and will soon ■ 
join him. We ore going on a journey 
together, which I had planned for my- 
self alone. Frances and I have both 
learned a great deal during these 
weeks of rude experience, and we are 
fully determined not to destroy the 
treasure of happiness which we have 
conquered. During our absence, 
Werve will be restored. Rolfe is ap- 
pointed ad interim commandant of the 
fortress and will answer for us. I will 
keep you informed of our impressions 
of travel. Leopold de Zonshoven. 

As these impressions of travel could 
have only a moderate interest for our 
readers, we content ourselves with the 
following extract from a letter dated at 
Geneva, and added by Frances to one 
of her husband's letters to his friend at 
Bat a via. 

I never ought to pardon Leopold 
for having told a friend all the grand 
deeds of "Major Frank," without spar- 
ing the smallest detail. Still, I see 
that in his delicate position he needed 
to pour out his heart, especially into 
that of a friend beyond the sea. That 
is why I have given him plenary abso- 
lution. But don't, I beg you, insert 
his confidences in the Java BcJel. It 
is not that Frances de Zonshoven now 
takes under her protection the undis- 
ciplined person called Major Frank. 
Oh ! no. She would much prefer that 
he had never existed, but there are 
family secrets, which I commend to 
your discretion. 

Do not wait to complete your years 
of service in the Indies, before you 
visit Werve. The glass has been all 
set, and there is room enough to re- 
ceive a friend even if he should come 
with a whole family. 

Frances de Zonshoven, 

the END, 





Dartmouth College had, in its earlier 
years, a somewhat remarkable and 
even romantic history. Its founder, 
Eleazer Wheelock, was no ordinary 
man. He was an eminent preacher, a 
man of broad plans, of high enthu- 
siasm, of indefatigable toil, and of 
great executive ability. Every one of 
these qualities was put to the severest 
test in his arduous enterprise. His 
original conception of an Indian 
school exhibited well the wisdom of 
his judgment, which anticipated the 
results of the latest experience. For. 
his plan was to train Indian youth of 
both sexes, so separated horn all their 
savage environments as to mould 
them fully into the habits of Christian 
civilization, and send them back to 
their own country, in company with 
English young men also educated by 
him as missionaries, that their united 
efforts might raise the savage tribes "to 
the same habits of life." There has 
been little advance upon the wisdom of 
the plan. 

When the Indian school expanded 
into ? college, and caused its transfer 
to another locality, the labor and care 
thrown upon him were enormous ; an 
extended and incessant correspond- 
ence at home and abroad, the necessi- 
ty of devising ways and means for every 
separate part of the enterprise, ma- 
terial and literary, an exhausting atten- 
tion to all the miriutise of business, 
the struggle of a settlement in an 
unbroken forest, remote from supplies, 
and at times the oppression of debt. 

From Lebanon, Connecticut, in 
August, 1770, lie pushed his way to 
Hanover, to make ready. In a short 
time he was followed by a part of his 
family, who with difficulty made their 
way over the wretched roads in "a 

coach," the gift of a London friend, 
and by two pupils who came on foot. 
This company entered a dense pine 
forest, containing "two or three log 
huts," and no bouse on that side of 
the river within two miles. They felled 
six acres of forest, and the fallen trees 
"in all directions covered the ground 
to about the height of five feet.''* One 
of those trees, says Dr. David McClure. 
who avers that he measured it, reached 
the almost incredible length of "two 
hundred and seventy feet, from the 
butt to the top;" and "the sun was 
invisible by reason of the trees, till it 
had risen many degrees above the 
horizon." Many of the company at 
first "slept on the ground with boughs 
of trees for beds, sheltered by a lew 
boards raised over them on poles." 
Here at once began the labor of clear- 
ing the ground, of erecting buildings, 
of digging wells (the first attempt 
unsuccessful), and even of erecting a 
saw-mill and a grist-mill. These mills 
failed to serve any valuable purpose, 
and "he was obliged to send a great 
distance into Massachusetts and Con- 
necticut for necessary provisions." 
The process was often attended with 
unavoidable delays, "the supplies were 
scanty, and they submitted to coarse 
fare." Dr. Wheelock sometimes con- 
ducted morning and evening prayers 
in the open air. He was cheered in 
the first hard winter by a religious 
revival. The snow that lay "four feet 
deep" did not chill out the warmth of 
poetic fire. We have an interesting 
record of that early time in a consid- 
erable poem written by Levi Frisbie, 
then a senior in college, preparing for 
the missionary work. The following 
is an extract : 



'For now the king of day, at distance far, 
In southern signs drove his refulgent car, 
On northern climates beamed a shorter day, 
And shot obliquely his diminished ray. 
Grim winter, frowning from the glistening hear, 
Unbarred his magazines of nitrous air, 
And, clad in icy mail, of rigid form. 
Menac'd dark, dismal days of dreadful storm.. 
Forlorn thus youthful Dartmouth trembling stood. 
Surrounded with inhospitable wood ; 
No silken furs on her soft limbs to spread, 
No dome to screen her fair, defenceless head, 
On every side she cast her wishful eyes, 
Then humbly raised them to the pitying skies. 
Thence grace divine beheld her tender care, 
And bowed her ear propitious to the prayer. 
Soon changed the scene ; the prospect shone more fair ; 
Joy lights all faces with a cheerful air ; 
The buildings rise, the work appears alive, 
Pale fear expires, and languid hopes revive, 
Grim winter's surly blasts forbear to blow. 
And heaven locked up her magazines of snow." 

The poem, which could not have been writte 
following this "grim winter," concludes thus : 

later than the September 

"Thus Dartmouth, happy in her sylvan seat, 
Drinks the pure pleasures of her fair retreat. 
Her songs of praise in notes melodious rise 
Like clouds of incense to the listening skies; 
Her God protects her with paternal care 
From ills destructive, and each fatal snare ; 
And may He still protect, and she adore 
Till heaven, and earth, and time, shall be no more. 

The eclat attending Dr. Wheelock's 
Indian school, both at home and in 
England, where George III had been 
a donor of two hundred pounds, 
created a very considerable competi- 
tion concerning its location, when 
removed from Connecticut. Among 
the competing places were Albany, 
New York ; Pittsheld and Stockbridge, 
Massachusetts ; Hebron and Norwich. 
Connecticut, and many others. Han- 
over was chosen (or several reasons, 
among which appear to have been the 
feasibility of securing large tracts of 
land; its proximity to the Indian 
tribes; the desirableness of furnishing 
ministers to the new settlement in the 
Connecticut valley, to which Hanover 
was regarded as somewhat "central," 
and "most convenient for transporta- 

tion up and down the river." Perhaps 
cmite as influential as any other reason 
was the powerful aid and influence oi 
John Wentworth, royal governor of 
New Hampshire. The first commence- 
ment was attended by the governor. 
At the second commencement, also, he 
was accompanied (or expected to be I 
by the Speaker and several members 
of the assembly, his secretary, the high 
sheriff of Hillsboro' county, the col- 
lector of Salem, Rev. Dr. Langdon, and 
various other prominent persons. 

The war of the revolution made 
havoc not only with Wheelock's plans 
for the Indian tribes, bat With the 
financial condition of the college. > '■ 
a wise foresight, when the charter w; 
procured from the king, it. had 
made the charter, not o( an Indian 


school alone, but of a college ; and as | 
a college, it has done its great work. 

Its founder died, worn out wish cares 
and labors, within nine years of its 
establishment, but he had made it a 
power in the land. For the first thirty 
years more than three quarters of its stu- 
dents came from outside New Hamp- 
shire. They were from the whole val- 
ley of the Connecticut, from Massa- 
chusetts, Maine, Vermont, New York. 
Not less than nine or ten younger 
colleges have since been established 
within the legion from which Dart- 
mouth then drew r its students. 

It would take a small volume rather 
than a magazine article to trace out 
the various sources of interest con- 
nected with the college from its roman- 
tic origin to the present time, or to do 
justice to its remarkable work. 

According to the Quinquennial Cat- 
alogue just issued, the whole number 
of graduates of the college (without 
reckoning the associated schools) is 
4275. of whom 2140 are living. 

These men have come from all 
parts of the country and have done 
their work in nearly all parts of the 
world, and in every form of useful 
activity. While some nine hundred of 
them as ministers have preached the 
gospel at home, a goodly number, 
among them Good ell, Poor, and Tem- 
ple have carried it abroad, to Africa, 
China, Japan, Turkey, India, Syria, 
Persia, the islands of the ocean, and 
the Indians of North America. They 
have aided in translating the Bible into 
the Armeno-Turkish, the Hawaiian and 
the Japanese languages. Six of them 
have been members of the Cabinet of 
the United States, six have represented 
the government at foreign courts, and 
a goodly number have been foreign 
consuls. Two of them have sat on 
the supreme bench of the United 
States — one as chief justice-- and many 
others (26) have been its district 
judges and district attorneys. The 
college has graduated forty-seven 
judges of state supreme courts (includ- 
ing twenty chief -justices), more than 
^xty judges of superior, county, and 
common pleas courts, besides a great 

number of probate and police judges, 
one major-general of the United States 
army, a superintendent of West Point, 
thirteen brigadier generals, thirteen col- 
onels, thirteen lieutenant-colonels, 
twelve majors, two adjutants, thirty- 
three captains, and numerous oili- 
er commissioned officers (lieuten- 
ants, surgeons, chaplains) of U. S. 
Volunteers. Thirty-two have been 
presidents, and a hundred and eighty 
professors, of colleges and professional 
schools ; twenty-three have been gov- 
ernors of states and territories, at least 
sixty-five representatives and sixteen 
senators in Congress, thirty-one speak- 
ers of state legislatures, and eighteen 
presidents of state senates. 

Tire graduates of the college have 
been greatly distinguished in the legal 
profession, and perhaps even more so 
in educational work. The late Dr. T. 
H. Taylor declared that in the latter 
respect the record of Dartmouth was, 
in proportion to her numbers, superior 
to that of any other college in the 
country. Her teachers and superin- 
tendents have been, dispersed through 
the land, and one of her graduates is 
now at the head of the Bureau of Ed- 
ucation, while the two oldest and best 
fitting-schools of New England (An- 
dover and Exeter) are in charge of 
Dartmouth men. 

The indebtedness of New Hamp- 
shire to its one ancient College has 
never been half told nor understood. 
About 1900 natives of the state have 
graduated at the college, besides a 
great number who pursued part of the 
course of study. Far the gi eater part 
of them have been young men of 
moderate and even straitened circum- 
stances, and probably a majority have 
been farmer's sons. They have come 
from 195 towns, which contain thirteen 
fourteenths of the population of the 
state, and have been trained for spheres 
of usefulness, often very eminent. 
Meanwhile the college has furnished 
teachers for the academics and high 
schools and for the district schools 
through every corner of the state for 
a hundred years. A great multitude 
of young persons, who never saw the 



inside of the college, have been taught, 
as was Horace Greeley and Zachariah 
Chandler, by Dartmouth students. 
Who has not felt their stimulating 

influence in the school, and the pulpit, 
at the bar, and on the bench, in the 
medical profession, and through the 
press? We can trace more than two 
hundred and twenty of them as New 
Hampshire pastors (without reckoning 
many evangelists) of all the several 
Protestant denominations, and over 
three hundred and thirty teachers of 
academies and high schools. 

Probably more than four thousand 
winter schools have been taught by 
them. Ducing fifty years past the 
college has furnished the state eigh- 
teen judges of the supreme court, 
and eleven of the court of common 
pleas, and nine governors. The gov- 
ernor-elect and five of the seven 
present judges of the supreme court 
are of the number. 

But the men of distinction are not, 
after all, the chief glory of the institu- 
tion. The highest work of the college 
consists in its having trained a great 
host of men of nobly balanced char- 
acters and clear-cut intellects for quiet, 
steady, powerful usefulness in every 
department of life and labor — in this 
state, in the country, in the world. 
But it should never be forgotten that 
its chief benefits, direct and indirect, 
have been conferred upon the rural 
population of New Hampshire. It 
has taken a great company of farmer's 
sons, like the Chases and the Websters, 
and other poor boys, and while raising 
them to power and eminence, has 

meanwhile sent them forth into the 
academies and district schools in every 

portion of the state to teach the boys 
that could not go to college, and give 
them, too, the teaching of the ablest 
men the country has produced, For 
more than a century Dartmouth College 
has thus been the Normal School of 
New Hampshire; and no- region in 
the world, probably, can point to a 
more remarkable set of schoolmasters 
than she has thus furnished to the 
population. Would it not be a wise 
and proper thing for the state to 
acknowledge and reciprocate ? 

In this hurried sketch there has not 
been room to say anything of the 
brilliant history of the Dartmouth 
Medical School, with its 1389 grad- 
uates, who have not only filled the state 
with the beneficent fruits of their care- 
ful training, but have honored their 
noble profession everywhere ; of 
I excellent record of the Chan 
; Scientific School, founded for "instruc- 
Ition in the practical and useful arts of 
I life," with its requisites, its aim and its 
j sphere all so carefully defined by the 
i will of its founder, to do a most useful 
j work, as to hold it unalterably to its 
I specific function ; of the Thayer School 
j of Civil Engineering, admirably devised 
' by perhaps the ablest superintendent 
! that West Point has had, of which the 
1 graduates, though few in number hith- 
erto, are making an enviable mark; 
j nor of the Agricultural College adja- 
j cent, with its excellent course of purely 
I English education. They are aH 
doing their work well. 






Some doubtless wonder that we find 

In scenes so rustic, unrefined, 

A theme on which to hang a rhyme, 

But they forget the sweet spring-time, 

When youth was grasping every joy 

That nature offers to the boy — 

The secrets of each rock and tree, 

In tangled wood or pasture free — 

In pools where sunny waters sleep, 

Or rapids, where they sparkling leap, 

And haunts', and holes, and roosts of game, 

That to our traps and meshes came, 

And sure we'll find, no color fades, 

Though seen through lenses of decades, 

Far iii the mind where fairy halls 

Have all these pictures on the walls. 

Then up the steep and sunny road, 
Where sturdy yeoman plies tire' goad, 
As heavy laden from the mill 
The laboring team moves up the hill, 
We wander on, the same old way 
On which as boys we used to play. 

Ah me ! the bank so high of yore, 

Has caved and flattened more and more ; 

The swallow's holes must ere remain 

The tenants of the air or brain ; 

With what delight we thrust our hands 

Into the sunny, yielding sands — 

Wherein we found delightful seat — 

And piled them on our russet feet, 

Or filled our hats and bore away, 

To build redoubts across the way ; 

While angry swallows in the air 

Regard our movements in despair, 

Unmindful of the legend old 

By rural dames so often told, 

"That bloody milk the pail would fill, 

If wicked lads the swallows kill," 

Forsooth, they led a charmed life, 

In midst of all our ruthless strife, 

And when thekine came home at night, 

We felt assured their milk was right. 


That winged monster, scythe in hand, 

Tli at in our primer* used to stand, 

Significant to one and all, 

That " Time cuts down both great and small, 

Has wan-der'd from that ancient page, 

That so impressed our tender age, 

With Adam's fall — and Eve, and apple — 

A problem hard e'en then to grapple ; 

We see his footsteps all around 

On what to us seems hallowed ground, 

In orchard, pasture, grove and dell, 

On grassy bank and brook and fell ; 

With conscious power and steady hand 

He fills his hour-glass from our sand, 

And sits astiide the roof-tree gray 

Serenely viewing the decay 

And change — while shadows fall 

On broken crate and ruin'd wall. 

The restless " Sugar " in its rocky bed 

Fills all the air of night with plaints and woes, 

Like inconsiderate childhood captive led 

From sports and pastimes to the night's repose. 

While on the hamlet old, the night comes down, 
And hush'd is anvil, lathe, and clack of mill, 

And birds are silent in the " thickets brown," 
And swallows in the sandbank on the hill. 

Would that the gloom that deepens all around, 
Might shadow forth forms long among the dead, 

That cross'd that threshold erst, and gather'd round 
The cheerful hearth-stone, whence they all have fled. 

How would we linger near each friendly ghost, 
Till chanticleer should hail the break of day, 

Signal to vanish from this mortal coast • 
To Islands of the Blessed far away. 

* The New England Piixner. 





The earliest histories o[ Britain were 
all fabulous and mendacious* The 

mythology of the island taxes the 
credulity of readers more than that of 
Greece; and strange to" say, these 
lying legends were believed down to 
the fifteenth century ; by some anti- 
quaries, till the seventeenth century. 
Geoffrey of Monmouth, who died A. 
1.)., n^4, translated and transmitted 
ihis incredible history from an earlier 
celtic author. His Historia Eritonum 
purports to be a translation of an 
old celtic chronicle, brought over from 
Brittany, in France, by Walter, the 
archdeacon o( Oxford, in nine books. 
It relates to the legendary story of the 
old British kings, from Brutus, the 
great grandson of .Tineas to the death 
of Cadwallader, A. D., 6SS. /Eneas 
is supposed to have settled in Italy- 
near die close of the twelfth century, 
B. C. The year 1184, B. C, is com- 
monly adopted as the date of the tail 
of Troy. Homer's Iliad has turnished 
heroes for the conquest and settlement 
of nearly half the civilized world. 
England had a descendant of .-Eneas 
for its first king, and a regular line of 
his successors is chronicled for fifteen 
hundred years. Not one of them 
ever had a being. The}- are all the 
creations of some old celtic bard, who 
died "and made no sign." The liter- 
ature that clusters about these imag- 
inary kings, would make a respectable 
library. Brutus, or Brute as he is com- 
monly called, was the subject of story 
and of song, as well as history, through 
all the dark ages. A translation of 
this old celtic manuscript was made, 
from the Latin version of Geoffrey of 
Monmouth, by Aaron Thompson of 
Queen's College, Oxford, in 171S. 
'Hie editor, at that late date, deems an 
apology necessary for his belief in 
these fabulous narratives, lie says in 
the preface : "I am not unsensible that 
I expose myself to the censure of some 

persons, by publishing this translation 

oi a book which they think had better 

been suppressed and buried in oblivion, 

as being at present generally exploded, 

lor a groundless and fabulous .story, 

such as our modern historians think 

not worthy of relating, or, at least, 

mention with contempt. * * * * 

" I had indeed, before I perused the 

j work, read the principal authors both 

\ for and against this history, the effect 

of which, upon my own judgment, as 

i to the swaying it to the one side more 

' than the other, was but very small ; and 

; 1 must confess that 1 find the most 

i learned antiquaries, the most modest 

I in their opinions concerning it ; and 

\ that it seems to me to be a piece of 

I great rashness, to judge peremptorily 

! upon a matter, whereof, at this great 

j distance of time, there are no compe- 

| tent witnesses on either side." 

So learned men reasoned in the 

I eighteenth century. The inventions of 

{ the old bard so fascinated them that 

j they could not denounce him as a liar. 

1 The translator, also, supports his theory 

j of the authenticity of the work by 

considerations like these : 1. The 

work, when first turned into Latin 

from the Celtic, was received with 

universal approbation by learned men. 

2. It met with but with one oppon- 
ent down to the seventeenth century. 
It was quoted by King Edward I in a 
controversy before Pope Boniface, 

3. We see in the history, traces of 
venerable antiquity. 

4. The history of Brute and the 
descent o( the Britons from the Trojan 
war allowed and quoted by subse- 
quent historians to the fifteenth cen- 

5. Lcland,.who lived in the reign of 
Henry VIII, and a host of other 
scholars supported the story of Brute. 

The Celtic manuscript, from which 
Geoffrey translated, is said to be still in 

r 5 6 


existence. It appears, therefore, that 
Geoffrey did not intend to deceive, but 
to give a new version of an old story. 
We know nothing of "the tales of Troy 
divine," except what Homer gives, 
who lived three hundred years after 
the Trojan war. Ten years are now 
sufficient to plant mistakes in the 
simplest narrative of facts. One hun- 
dred years, much more, three hundred 
sows authentic history with falsehoods. 
The question is often asked who com- 
manded the American troops on Bunk- 
er Hill? Prescott, Stark and Putnam 
all have their advocates. If we ask 
who furnished the men ? Most critics, 
like Sir Thomas Brown, when asked 
what song the sirens sang, "would 
hazzard a wide conjecture." When 
we remember that many erudite men 
deny the existence of Troy and make 
Homer himself a myth, the tale that 
the Trojans settled the remote island 
of Britain, then the "Ultima Thule" 
of the world, has not the shadow of 
a foundation to stand upon. Julius 
Caesar, who invaded the island 55 B. 
C, that very Caesar in whose honor 
Virgil wrote the JEneid, to trace that 
hero to a divine origin, had no knowl- 
edge of his relationship to the Celts, 
whom he ruthlessly slaughtered. The 
Romans, in their subsequent conquests, 
do not allude to it. Tacitus, in his 
life of Agricola, never mentions it, 
yet the line of kings is as definitely 
recorded for fifteen hundred years, as 
those of the Plantagenets in English 
history. King Leir or Lear was one 
of those kings. He lived about the 
time of Solomon. His history is 
pathetically told by the old bard, and 
melts all hearts. 

When King Lear finds himself de- 
ceived and degraded by his two eldest 
daughters, he cried out : " O inevasible 
decrees of the fates, that never swerve 
from your stated course ! Why did 
you ever advance me to an unstable 
felicity, since the punishment of lost 
happiness is greater than the sense of 
present misery? The remembrance 
of the time when vast numbers of men 
obsequiously attended me in the taking 

countries, more deeply pierces my 
heart than the view of my present 
calamity, which has exposed me to the 
derision of those who were formerly 
prostrate at my feet." Thus through 
many pages the aged king bewails his 
misfortunes till his mind broke down 
and he went mad. An old English 
ballad repeats the touching story. Two 
stanzas read thus : 

And calling to remembrance t'len 
His youngest daughter's words 
'] hat said the duty of a child 
Was all that love atl'ords ; 
But doubting to repair toiler, 
Whom he had banished so, 
Grew frantic mad; for, in his mind, 
lie bore the wounds of woe. 

Which made him rend his milk-white locks 

And tresses from his head, 

And all with blood bestain his cheeks 

With age and honor spread 

To hills, and woods, and watery founts 

lie made his hourly moan, 

Till hills and woods and senseless things 

Did seem, to sigh and groan." 

The whole ballad is as simple, sweet 
and touching as anything ever said or 
sung, except Shakespeare's Lear. This 
is one of the grandest of Shakespeare's 
tragedies. He took up the tale where 
the ballad left it. The ballad sung it 
precisely as Geoffrey of Monmouth 
translated it from an unknown Celt- 
ic poet. Now this simple, artless 
story, invented in a by-gone age by a 
fbrgotton singer, and uttered by a 
vanished voice, ends in a royal octavo 
volume of five hundred pages, by Rev. 
Horace Howard Furness, on King Lear ; 
"Behold how great a fire a little matter 
kindleth !" 

The story has no reality; the history 
from which it was taken has no reality, 
yet tiie fiction lives on and grows by 
what it feeds on. The thoughts of 
men, though fables, outlive their works. 
Monuments, temples and palaces crum- 
ble into dust ; but the net-work of 
fancy which had neither geography 
nor chronology, becomes immortal. 
The old Celtic manuscript, which 
Geoffrey rendered into Latin by the 
title of Historia Briton urn has been 
recited with the apparent sincerity and 
honesty of a real history, lives among 
the best thoughts of the' greatest men 
that ever lived. Dr. Furness, after 

of the cities, and wasting the enemy's | Shakespeare, closes the long proce 





"It is fai(] tho Pena,cook In ljans used, to predict the weather from the movement.' of the morning fog, 
which usually passed oft 4 in a direction toward the sea, or toward the mountains. It. said they, the fog 

goes a fishing, we shall have fair weather; but if it goes a hunting, look for a storm." 

Come forth from your chamber, come, sister, with me, 

The green woods are waving a welcome to thee, 

Leave your books, and your labor, and dark pictured walls ; 

Let us look at the landscapes in Nature's broad halls, 

The sky will be fair and the fields will be gay 

For the Queen of the Mist goes a fishing to-day. 

I looked from my window, at breaking of morn, 
And white o'er the valley her curtains were drawn ; 
But soon from the hill- top the sun sent a ray 
And lifted one fold which a breeze bore away, 
Then slowly up-rising, all buoyant and white, 
Around her she gathered her draperies light. 

And over the river, poised on one light toe, 

She staid as if thinking which way she 'would go ; 

Then, with robes trailing lightly o'er hill-top and tree, 

On slow wing she floated out over the sea j 

And the storm clouds around us no. longer will stay 

Since the Queen of the Mist goes a fishing to-day. 

Then come from your chamber, come, sister, with me, 
While the glad birds are singing from each shrub and tree ; 
The green fields are smiling— the Summer woods too — 
And the great book of nature lies open to view. 
Beneath a fair sky we may fearlessly stray 
For the Queen of the Mist goes a fishing to-day. 


FRANCIS Cogswell I roar j t He was elected president of 

Was born in Atkinson, December 21, that railroad in 1856, and for twelve 
1800; graduated at Dartmouth Col- I years he administered the affairs of the 
tege, class of 1822 j studied law, and ! road to the satisfaction of the directors 
commenced to practice in Strafford and the stockholders. Mr. Cogswell's 
county. In 1842 he removed to An- | interest in New Hampshire was main- 
over, Massachusetts, and engaged in j tained through life, lie was a trustee 
la nufacturing. Subsequently he be- ' of the Gilmanton and of the Atkinson 
came cashier of a bank, and later, a \ academies, an overseer of Harvard 
Rector of the Boston & Maine rail- 1 College, and a warden of Christ Church, 



Andover. Mr. Cogswell was a man of 
great financial ability, sound judgment-, 
unquestioned integrity, and excellent 
social qualities. lie was deeply inter- 
ested in local history and genealogy. 
He* died February it. 1880, leaving 
four children to mourn his loss. 


Son of Williani Benton, formerly of 
Tolland, Connecticut, was born in 
Langdon, January 23, 1S05. At an 
early age his parents removed to Leba- 
non, where the greater part of his long 
and well-rounded life was passed. At 
the early age of twenty years. Col. Ren- 
ton engaged in mercantile business for 
himself, with a capital of M 4 7.50. the 
accumulation of his boyhood. Thrift 
and foresight were attended by pros- 
perity, and in the prime of manhood 
he retired from active business with a 
competency, and devoted the remain- 
der of his life to his favorite studies, 
congenial pursuits, and travel. He was 
never idle. He took great interest in 
the organization of the Northern raii- 

* Mr. Cogswell was a son of Dr. William 
Cogswell, a surgeon in the war of the Revo! inon 
and a distinguished physician. He hud Ok 
brothers: (l) Tlie Rev. William Cogswell, o n. 
many vears secretan- of t ! >.-. America:) Eduevio"- 
al society, prof^or of History in Dartmouth 
College, president of the Grilmaiiron Theological 
seminary, aalhor of nmnv pablishe i sermons and 
oi numerous antiquarian and religious articles, 
and one oi the editors of the "Geneaioiricil 
Kegister;" (2) Rev. Nathaniel, for fortv yean? 
Pastor oi oita ehu -c'i a: Yarmouth. Mass.", father 
of the [Ion. J. P.. D. Cogswell, late president of the 
Massachusetts Sena!,- ( :j) Jo,eo!i Co/swell, who 
spent ins life unon the old homestead ai \*ktn- 
sou, father of Dr William Cogswell of Bradford, 
Mass.. late president of the Massachusetts Medi- 
cal Society, and member of the <?os'eruor's coun- 
cu, jjrancis, a very successful teacher in Cam- 
bridge. Ma.., and Thomas, a dentist in Boston, 
Mass.; (4) the Hon. Thomas Cogswell of Oilman^ 
ton, a MwitiRent man in NW HatrttwMre an! 
one of the judges of Belknap coun» •-, and father of 
James W .. high sheriff of that count/, and «•.,} 
i nomas, the well-known hrwer: aod rg) Dr 
George Cogswell of Bradford, Mass.* who retired 
from his i>ruf eg sion some vears ago, and has h»M 
several offices of honor and emolument und-r th<> 
the state an 1 United Starts g >re -ument, father of 

Genera! Wil 

ia n C 

>gs'.ve!l of 

[i-m, JIass. The 
o.her brother dsed in childhood. Francis Cogs- 
well had two sisters: (1) Julia, who married 
Greenleaf Clarke of Atkinson a- I was the oiodier 
ofthe Hon. William O Clarke Dr K-.n -i « " ( ; - - 
t>r. Moses ( lark.;, all dead, Surah, -vio oi" l>a* 
Samuel C. Carieton, of H iveHiill, Mass.. th« [Jon 
Greewleaf Clarke of Atkitw >u, a, I John IS. CI •■k-.-' 
editor oi the Manchester Mirror; nn I ■> H >,,•.'. 
who married five late Governor M i 1- •■•■ of c»:l- 
iRanton, and is mother of V done! Joseph !'. i '•_-. ■ 
of that town, and Captain William Badger, U?*\ 
A. Dr. George < logswell is the only survivor of ihe 
family, His father cUecl fifty years ago," C. 

road, assisting in the preliminary sur- 
vey, and urging before the legislature 
the granting of its charter and right of 
way. He served his town as selectman 

two terms, and was always ail active 
advocate of the principles ot his own 
political party, leaving the offices to has 
party associates. Mis leisure was de- 
voted to the study of nature ; horticult- 
ure, botany, mineralogy and geology 
receiving attention, as shown by the 
large and valuable collection of botan- 
ical and mineral specimens which he has 
left. Local history and genealogy was 
also a favorite study with him, and his 
acdve pen has left on record many of 
his researches. He was identified with 
the militia organizations of the state, re- 
ceiving his rank, however, from the 
State of Vermont, during a temporary 
residence in that commonwealth. Col. 
Benton was an active, earnest, well-in- 
fo r m e d , co n scie ntio u -and mo d e s t m a 1 1 . 
He affiliated with the Unitarian church, 
in which denomination he was deeply 
interested. In 1 84 1 , he married Susan 
A. Wright of Norwich, Vermont, who 
survives him. She was his companion 
on his journeys and coadjutor in his 
studies. Their children, four in num- 
ber, are buried in their family lot. Col. 
C. C, Benton died very suddenly in 
Boston, February 22, 1S80. His mem- 
ory will long survive. 


Daughter of Jacob P. Boody, for many 
years Register of Deeds for Belknap 
county, was born in Dover, December 
11, 1 84 7 . Her education was acquired 
at the public schools of Dover, Alton, 
and Laconia. At an early age she 
manifested a decided talent for litera- 
ture, and in her childhood she was an 
acceptable contributor to various pub- 
lications. Her taste for letters was 
carefully cultivated, and she took high 
rank as a writer and poetess. 

'•It is sincerely to be hoped that some 
friendly hand will gather the stray (low- 
ers of \~>-)cty which she scattered al n ! 
the way of life, and bind tin m in •"'■•' 


died. Manv of her \ - ; 

touchingly tender and sympatheti 
while holy trust and spiritual a [> 



tion are manifest in almost every line* 
No richei contribution can be made to 
the permanent literature of New Hamp- 
shire than a volume embracing the 
poems of Mary Helen Boody." She 
died at Laconia, April 29, 7880. 


Was born in Raymond, January 30, 
1 80S, and during the most of his life 
resided in his native town. In his 
youthful days he had a thirst for learn- 
ing, and acquired it amidst many ob- 
stacles, with a determined purpose. 
Tic commenced to preach the gospel 
about the year 1 S40. Since 1846 he 
was clerk of the Rockingham Free 
Will Baptist Quarterly Meeting, never 
missing a meeting until his death. 
Aside from his pastoral duties Mr. Ful- 
lonton was a diligent historical student, 
deeply versed in the history of his town, 
state, nation, and the world. The 
result of his labor, in the local depart- 
ment, is the history of Raymond, pub- 
) : shcd in 1875. ^ e contributed sev- 
eral articles to the Granite Monthly. 
In his daily life he "walked with God." 
He was a good man. great hearted, 
liberal minded, sympathetic, who nev- 
er failed, when opportunity offered, to 
do good. Possessed of a kind and 
cheerful disposition, he carried sun- 
shine and comfort in his path and 
made friends of all whom he met. He 
met with an accident which necessita- 
ted the amputation of his arm, a shock 
to his aged system so severe thai he 
could not rally. He died October 27, j 
18S0, deeply lamented by a large num.- j 
ber of friends. 


Son of John McDuffee of Kx>chester, 
was born at Dover, August 27, 1S32, 
hut was carried by his parents, at an 
early age, to Rochester, where he 
always resided. At the age of twelve 
years he entered Gilmanton Academy, 
v ''here he graduated in 1S48 ; a year 
kter entering Dartmouth College, he 
graduated in the class of 1853. After 
his college course, he entered the office ! 
f) - Hon. Daniel M. Christie of Dover, j 
45 a law student, where he remained I 

for six months, when he accepted a 
position in the Norway Plains Savings 
Bank. Soon after, he was appointed 
treasurer of that institution, which 
office he held until his death. in 
1 o 5 7 his constitution received a se- 
vere shock from exposure, while lost 
on Mount Washington, one rainy 
night ; this led to his taking a journey 
to Europe to recuperate. In 1S68 he 
formed, with his father, the private 
banking firm of John McDuffee and 
Company, which was succeeded by the 
Rochester National Bank, of which he 
■was elected cashier. 

Mr. McDuffee was often called by 
his fellow citizens to offices of trust 
and responsibility, serving his town as 
selectman, representative in 1862, 
member of the Constitutional Conven- 
tion in 1S76, and for many years sup- 
erintending school committee, being 
deeply interested in popular educa- 
tion. He was also interested in the pres- 
ervation of local history, and by his 
researches and pen preserved from 
oblivion many interesting facts. His 
articles, published in local papers, form 
the basis 01 a history of Rochester, 
which should be collected and pub- 
lished. Mr. McDuffee was also an 
advocate in the cau^e of temperance, 
and a friend of literature, his pen and 
eloquent voice being always in service 
on the right side. He was identified 
actively with the Orthodox church, and 
was known as an intelligent, liberal, 
charitable. Christian gentleman, of cor- 
rect judgment and wise counsel. De- 
cember 4, 1 86 1, he was joined in mar- 
riage to Fanny Hayes of Rochester, 
who survives him. Their children are 
John Edgar McDuffee, of Dartmouth 
College, class of 1883, and Willis 
McDuffee. Franklin McDuffee died 
November 11, 1S80, lamented by the 
whole community. ,... ■ .;,- . .' , .'- . 


Son of John Farr, was born in Little- 
ton. October ro, 1840; graduated at 
Thetford (Vermont) Academy,in 1859, 
and entered Dartmouth College in the 
class of 1863. At the breaking out of 
the war he was the first to volunteer 



from his native town, April 20. 1861, 
and was commissioned first lieutenant, 

Company G, Second Regiment New 
Hampshire Volunteers, June 4, 1861. 
January 1, 3862, at Harrison's Land- 
ing, he was promoted to captain of his 
company. At Williamsburg, Virginia, 
May 5. 1 8 13 2 . his right elbow was shat- 
tered by a minnie rifle bullet, which 
necessitated an amputation. Septem- 
ber 4, 1S62, Captain Farr resigned, 
and September 9 he was commissioned 
major of the Eleventh .Regimen!. He 
was mustered out at the disbanding of 
the regiment, June 4, 1865. After the 
war Major Farr read law. and was ad- 
mitted to the bar in July, 1867. I n 
1873 he was appointed solicitor for 
Grafton county. In 1S76 he was "ad- 
dressed " out of office by the legislature 
of an opposing political creed, and was 
the candidate of his part}' for council- 
or, receiving his election from the 
following legislature. From 1870 to 
1873, when the office was abolished, 
he was assessor of internal revenue. 
In 1S7S he was elected a member of 
the forty-sixth Congress, being reelect- 
ed in 1880. In Congress, Major Fan- 
was held in high esteem by his asso- 
ciates. In his district and throughout 
the state his modest bearing, manly 
form, suggestive empty sleeve, and 
eloquent voice, were well known and 
ever welcome. A patriot, a brave and 
distinguished soldier, a faithful com- 
rade, a Christian gentleman, he was 
deservedly popular and beloved. He 
was a man of medium height, slender, 
graceful carriage, with an intellectual, 
handsome face, expressive of sym- 
pathy, cordiality and friendship. He 
died suddenly, November 30, 1880, 
sincerely lamented by a very large cir- 
cle of friends and acquaintances, and 
mourned for by a wife, several children, 
and many relatives. 


Son of Joseph S. Lund, was born in 
Concord. December 9, 1831 ; attended 
the public schools of this city, and the 
Pembroke and Thetford (Vermont) 
academies ; studied civil engineering 
with General George Stark of Nashua ; 

graduated from Dartmouth College, 
class of 1855 ; read law with Hon. 
Asa Fowler of Concord, and Messrs 
Sanborn and French of St. Paul, Min- 
nesota ; was admitted to the br>r in 
that state in 1857, and commenced to 
practice there. 

In 1864 he returned to Concord, 
and formed a partnership with Hon. 
L. D. Stevens, which continued until 
1S69. In 1S70 he was appointed a 
chief of division in the construction of 
the Northern Pacific Railroad, his held 
of work lying in Oregon. On his 
return to this city, he was appointed 
assistant engineer in the construction 
of the Concord witer-works, and chief 
engineer of the Leominster (Massa- 
chusetts) water-works. On the death 
of Mr. Adams, Mr. Lund was appoint- 
ed chief engineer of the Boston, Con- 
cord and Montreal Railroad, and built 
several extensions to that road in a 
manner so scientific as to establish his 
reputation as one of the. most daring, 
skilful and successful engineers in New 
England. Besides his connection 
with the railroad, Mr. Lund was city 
engineer of Concord, and had an ex- 
tensive private practice, reaching be- 
yond the limits of the state. Mr. 
Lund represented Concord two years 
in the legislature, and was a trustee of 
the public library, and of Blossom Hill 
Cemetery. In Masonry, he was a 
Knight Templar. In 1861 Mr. Lund 
was joined in marriage, to Lydia 
French of Concord. Their children 
are Fred B. Lund, fifteen years of age, 
and Joseph Lund, thirteen, scholars in 
the Concord High School. Suddenly, 
in the prime of manhood, in the midst 
of usefulness, Mr. Lund died, Decem- 
ber 4, 1S80. Mr. Lund was of me- 
dium height, powerful frame, indus- 
trious, indefatigable. In his family 
relations he was loving and tender ; as a 
friend he was faithful and true. Pos- 
sessed of good judgment, his decision 
was quick and unerring. His death is 
an irreparable loss to his family and 
to his profession ; and the community. 
of whiclvhe was an active and useful 
member, will long miss him nod hold 
his memory in honor and esteem, 






Vol. IV. 

FEBRUARY, 1881. 

Xo. 5* 




Silas Ketchum was born in Barre, 
Vermont, December 4. 1835. ^' 3 
father, Silas, was a son of Roger 
West and Wealthy (N ewcomb) Ketch- 
um, and was borri in Athol, Massachu- 
setts, November 29, 1800; married 
j muary 2, 1821. Cynthia Doty of 
S\ >ntpelier, a descendant of Edward 
Doty, who came in the "Mayflower," 
1 20. He died in Hopkinton, New 
Hampshire, April iS, 1855. His wife, 
Cynthia, died also at Hopkinton, De- 
c< mber 14, 1S67. [ 

Roger. West Ketchum was the only 
' bildof Justus istand Susannah (West) 
'■■ tchum, and was horn in Athol, De- 
cember 1, 1 7 78; married, 1798, 
Wealthy, daughter of Bradford 1st and 
■'< ealthy (Boyden) Newcomb of Green- 
eh 3 Massachusetts, and died in 
-rattsbury, Vermont, August, 1862. 
I ■■ is Bradford Newcomb was a de- 
scendant in the seventh generation 
rorn Governor William Bradford. 
Ju tus Ketchum 1st was born (proba- 
: : ) in New Salem (but possibly in 
Greenwich), Massachusetts, 1758: 
d Susannah, daughter of that 
icon Isaac West who figured in 
fs Rebellion. 
e father of Justus 1st came from 
mstown, Massachusetts, to- New 
1 ■> and afterwards lived in Green- 
and Dana; but the records of 
'■ Mamstown and Greenwich -of that 

day having been destroyed by fire, 
original documents are wanting by 
means of which to discover his name. 
It has been ascertained, however, that 
he was by occupation a miller ; a voca- 
tion that was upon occasion followed 
by his son, Justus 1st, by his son, Roger 
West, by his 'son, Silas, father of the 
subject of this sketch,' and early in life, 
by George PL, an older brother of Rev. 
Silas, who now resides at Contoocook. 
All of these were also farmers. Roger 
West Ketchum was at one period a 
hatter (from about 1800 to 1810). 
He is said to have been a well educat- 
ed man and was fitted for college but 
did not enter. 

In the spring of 181 1 he removed 
his family, then consisting of a wife 
and four or five children, to Barre. 
His wife dying in 1839,110 spent the 
remainder of his life with his son 
Chauncy at Craftsbury. His son, Silas, 
however, continued to live at Barre till 
April, 1836, when he removed to Plain- 
field. In 1842 he returned to Barre, 
and in 1844 purchased the Samuel 
Preston farm in Montpelier, afterward 
East Montpelier, on which he lived till 
his removal to Hopkinton, New Hamp- 
shire, June 4, 1851. 

it should be remarked that the fore- 
going genealogy is made up from man- 

uscripts prepared by the subject of the 
present sketch, whose extreme care 
and judgment in such, matters are 



evidence of its correctness. Between 
the years i S 7 1 and 1875 he colic-red 
most of the materials for a history of 
the descendants of Edward Doty, his 
maternal ancestor, which he placed in 
the hands of Mr. Ethan. Allen Doty 01 
New York city, to be completed and 
published. He bad also accumulated 
many notes for a history of the descend- 
ants of Edward Ketohuin of Ipswich, 
1635 ; but whether he had succeeded in 
establishing a connected lineage be- 
tween his great-grandfather, Justus 1st 
and this Edward, I am unable to state. 


At the age of fifteen young Ketchum 
was thrown upon his own resources ; 
he learned the shoemaker's trade, and, 
by its practice, took a heavy share in 
the support of his invalid parents till 
the death of his father in 1855. Of 
somewhat delicate frame and indiffer- 
ent health, he had already begun to 
show signs of that energy for which he 
was afterwards distinguished, tempered 
with a sweet gentleness and courteous 
manners, which • commanded respect 
while they won esteem. 

Knowing that "bonanzas" are some- 
times hammered out of lap-stones, even 
though their value be not computable 
in dollars and cents, he labored with 
cheerful diligence. A sufficient stock 
of shoes and slippers being made up — 
enough to fill a hand-satchel — he 
trudged about from house to house, 
selling his wares wherever he could 
find a purchaser. Honest toil needs 
no apology, but shoernaking was 
a necessity, not a choice. The 
stolen leisure which he could force out 
of late hours was devoted to what he 
had more relish for — the hard-earned 
books, which he obtained one by one 
with the small sums of money saved 
by self-denial — the beloved books, 
which were a perpetual source of de- 
light, of profit, and of inspiration. He 
read their pages between the stitches 
at the bench, and studied them in his 
walks. Hence, when he entered Hop- 
kinton Academy in the spring of 1856, 
then in charge of William K. Rowell, 
a. m., he was probably better acquainted 

with classical English literature tie:,: 
any other pupil in that institution. 
However limited may have been his 
previous school opportunities, he had 

not waited until the age o( twenty ere 
his education was begun. The student 
work which lay immediately before 
him at this time, consisted of the high- 
er studies required in a preparatory- 

He continued to attend Hopkinton 
Academy till its sessions ceased to be 
regularly held, when he studied under 
private instructors. Among these may 
be named the late Prof. Dyer H; San- 
born, that veteran teacher, whose mem- 
ory is affectionately cherished by hun- 
dreds of men and women, who were 
his pupils at Gilmanton, Washington, 
Hopkinton, and elsewhere. Before 
severing his connection with Hopkin- 
ton Academy he had served as its 
assistant teacher, and in the winter of 
1S5S-59 he taught in the High School 
at Amherst. 

In the month of May, 1S60, he en- 
tered Appleton Academy, New Ipswich, 
Elihu T. Quimby, a. m., principal. 
This was his last term at school. His 
sense of its importance is expressed in 
a letter dated June 4, 1S60. "I like 
well, and the instruction, which is the 
principal thing I look at, is of the 
most thorough kind. I am applying 
myself with all diligence. Time, to 
me, is precious, more precious than 
money ; for every day brings me near 
to the close of my school studies." 
That close came only a few weeks 

His plans for the future were indefin- 
ite and unsettled. Prior to this date 
he was fitted to enter college, but his 
intention to do so had been defeated, 
when, in the summer of 1S59, to other 
obstacles was added a long and dan- 
gerous fever. 

He was now nearly twenty-five years 
of age ; but to take up with the handiest 
occupation which offered; simply as a 
means to gain a livelihood, did not 
accord with, his nature. Re had fought 
his way thus far, single-handed, and, 
depressed as he was about the imme- 
diate future, no stress of circumstances 



o tld tempt him from that course I month he delivered his farewell ser- 

in the end, promised employ 
ment suited to his tastes, and oppor- 
tunities which his energy might develop. 
tt was, probably, the most important 
< risis of his life. 

The result was a determination to 
enter Bangor Theological Seminary, 
which he did the following autumn ; 
pursuing the three years course, and 
graduating at that institution in 1863; 
during which time it is said that he 
■ u'ssed but one lecture or recitation. 
When we add to this creditable record 
I lie fact that he meantime worked at 
his early trade of shoe-making, as a 
means of supporting himself and family, 
and continued the study of many 
subjects not included in the seminary 
curriculum. AYe can appreciate the 
pains he took, and the struggle he 
made to lay deer) the foundation upon 
which he was to build, wt can under- 
stand how, at a later period, ordinary 
1 ibors seemed trifling to him ; and how, 
while performing the duties of his 
rhosen profession, lie achieved reputa- 
tion as a frequent, writer for the press ; 
became well known throughout New 
England for Ins extensive and accurate 
knowledge upon a great variety of sub- 
jects, particularly of local history, biog- 
raphy and bibliography ; and still found 
opportunity to serve actively and con- 
spicuously as a member of several 
benevolent and learned societies. 

In the autumn immediately following 
the close of his seminary course, he 
was associated with the- writer as a 
teacher in Nelson High School. This 
was his last term of service in that 
capacity. To adopt it as a chosen 
calling' I think he never intended. 
Previously he had taught school, like 
so many others, to assist himself in 
acquiring an education. In the last 

mom Within this period his congre- 
gation largely increased, and many 
became his hearers who had not been 
attendants at church before ; but the 
difficulty of raising funds for his sup- 
port, joined to other causes, apt to 
prevail where unity of purpose is 
wanting, led to his giving up the charge. 
He was superintendent of public 
schools in that town ; and it was during 
his stay there that he joined the frater- 
nity of Free Masons, a step which 
caused considerable feeling against 
him in minds not over-informed re- 
specting the character and objects of 
that order. 

On the 13th of October, 1S66, he 
began preaching to the Congregational 
church at Bristol, New Hampshire, 
over which he was ordained September 
1 7. 1 S6 7, continuing his connection with 
that church and society until May 2, 
1875. He reorganized and graded 
the public schools of Bristol, and super- 
intended them five years. 

He was minister of the Congrega- 
tional church at Maplewood (Maiden), 
Massachusetts, from July 1, 1S75, till 
October 4, 1S76. Through the fail 
and winter of the last named year 
(1876-77), he preached at Henniker. 

His last pastorate was over the Sec- 
ond Congregational church of Windsor, 
Connecticut, parish of Poquonock, 
which began July 15, 1S77, ms installa- 
tion occurring May 1, 1S79. He was 
the nominal pastor of this church at 
the time of his death, and his actual 
service in its pulpit did not entirely 
cease until a few weeks previous. 

Mr. Ketchum had, probably, little 
ambition to become an '• eminent 
divine," in the scholastic sense : at 
least, he esteemed faithfulness above 
fame, and they who would seek for 

instance it was mainly a labor of love, evidence of his professional reputation 
while he was waiting an engagement as j will find it most distinctly traceable in 

me pastor of some church. 


Mr. Ketchum commenced preaching 
st W'ardsboro', Vermont, in December, 
^63, where he remained until Septem- 
ber, 1865; on the 24th of which 

the hearts and homes of his parish- 
ioners. Here is not wanting abundant 
proof that his example as well as pre- 
cept was always on the side of justice, 
morality and piety ; for the promotion 
of which he toiled with successful dili- 



Like all those who accept the sacred 
and responsible office of the ministry, 

he was pledged to preach the gospel, 
to guide the erring, comfort the afflicted, 
visit the sick and bury the dead, to 
endure all things for the Master's sake, 
to act as a peacemaker and to perf< -m 
those manifold and nameless tasks, 
secular as well as religious, which a 
minister is considered holden for. Such 
was his professional life. It is stated 
in few words ; but the faithful discharge 
of these obligations implies toil, pa- 
tience, and self sacrifice. 


It has been said that the success 
which was achieved by Silas Ketchum 
is to be attributed, almost wholly, to 
his own untiring and unaided indus- 
try. Doubtless he early possessed a 
ready observation, quick perception, 
and a retentive memory ; but all these 
required use and training to become 
efficient factors of progress. He had 
talents to improve rather than genius 
to develop. There was no indication 
of a peculiar fitness, or even taste for 
one thing to the exclusion of others. 
He had reached the age of manhood 
before he chose his profession. 

This much is certain, however, that 
his love for books and his thirst for 
knowlege appeared so early that it is 
hard to discover their dawning. "We 
are entering into a fairy land, touching 
only shadows, and chasing the most 
changeable lights, * * * * yet 
though realities are but dimly to be 
traced in this twilight of imagination 
and tradition," we find that the im- 
pulses of the child betokened the 
habit of the man. He had hardly 
learned to read ere he began to write. 
First the diary, kept on odds and ends 
of illy-assorted paper, wherein to jot 
the marvelous events of boy-life, with 
observations on men and things. Later 
came the note-books, the common- 
place books and the sketch books, 
those fascinating aids to memory, 
which many boys begin but which few 
continue. These are preserved, and they 
show that neatness, care and system 
were characteristic of the boy as well 

as the man. In due season, and while 
still at school, was begun a series of 
original articles in prose and verse, 
written from a pure love of writing, 
without purpose of publication ; and, 
in fur, lie was rather averse to their 
being seen, in spite of their genuine 
merits. His school " compositions," 
instead of being compilations of stolen 
material or platitudes upon ordinary 
topics, were labored dissertations, which 
interested his companions by their 
sagacity and awed them by their length. 
These facts illustrate his early practice 
of utilizing his knowledge, and at the 
same time, of acquiring a readiness in 
the u^e of language. 

He made his first regular appear- 
ance in print about i860 or '61. Vv r e 
say regular appearance, because he 
probably had written an occasional 
short article for the press before ; but, 
from the date named, he became a fre- 
quent contributor to various papers and 
periodicals published in New England. 
The East Boston Ledger, and the New 
Hampshire Journal of Agriculture 
were the first for which he wrote at 
stated intervals. His connection with 
the former was short, but his contribu- 
tions to the other were kept up for sev- 
eral years. These articles were mainly 
essays; and while they v^ere fitted to 
win the attention of thoughtful readers, 
they could have afforded but little sat- 
isfaction to mere lovers of newspaper 
gossip. His acknowledged model, and 
the one he strove hardest to imitate, was 
the Spectator, and while in after life he 
wrote upon many subjects that would 
hardly admit of the elegant but some- 
what quaint style of that standard 
English classic, he was always an ad- 
mirer of its clear, simple and terse dic- 
tion ; traces of whose influence are ob- 
servable even in his extensive corres- 
pondence, in the haste of writing which 
a man might, if ever, be pardoned for a 
slovenly manner. 

Contributions to the New Hamp- 
shire Journal of Education appeared 
from his hand about this time. 

In the interim between the close of 
his pastoral service at Wardsboro', 1S65, 
and his engagement at Bristol, r 866, he 



edited, in conjunction with D. L. Mil- | 
liken, the Weekly and Semi-Weekly j 
Record, and the Vermont School j 

Journal^ both published at Brattleboro' ; 
being at the same time a contributor ! 
to the Vermont Chronicle, Windsor. ! 

From its commencement, 1 So 7, to 1 873, | 
he was contributor and literary reviewer 
of the New England Homestead, 
Springfield, Mass. ; from its commence- 
ment, 1 868, to 1872, a contributor to 
the Household, Brattleboro' ; a regular 
correspondent of the Woonsocket Pat- 
riot, 1872-74 ; and from its commence- 
ment, 1874, till 187S, he wrote regu- 
larly for the Cottage Hearth, Boston. 
Without attempting a complete list of 
the periodicals where traces of his 
busy pen may be found, we will only 
add to the above the Congregationalist, 
the Waverly Magazine , and the Granite 
Monthly. In the success of the last 
named he felt a special interest, both 
because it is a New Hampshire enter- 
prise, deserving the support of her 
sons and daughters, wherever located ; 
and because of its praiseworthy at- 
tempt to gather up into enduring form 
the local history, biography, antiquities 
and traditions of the Granite State, 
which had long needed such a chron- 

For the justice and acumen of his 
book reviews he was highly praised by 
competent judges ; and one of the 
most prominent publishing houses in 
the country offered him, several years 
since, a high salary for his literary- 
services, which he declined. 

Mr. Ketchum's published works, 
which have appeared in book or pam- 
phlet form, including such as were 
privately printed, are: 1. A Farewell 
Sermon, preached at Wardsboro', Ver- 
mont, September 24, 1865, published 
by request. Brattleboro', 1866. 2. His- 
toric Masonry, An Address delivered 
at the Installation ol Officers of Union 
Lodge, No. 79, A. F. & A. M., in 
the Town Hall, Bristol, New Hamp- 
shire, February 4, A. L. 5873, by Rev. 
Silas Ketchum, R. A., Chaplain of the 
Grand Lodge of New Hampshire, and 
Past Master of Union Lodge. Bristol, 
5S73. 3- The Philomathic Club. An 

Outline History of its Operations from 
its Organization, 19th November, 1859, 
to its Transformation into the New 
Hampshire Antiquarian Society, 19th 
November, 1873. Also, a Catalogue 
of Curiosities in ifs possession at;that 
time. Bristol, 1875. 8vo., pp. 270.. 
50- copies privately printed.. 4. A Eul- 
ogy on Henry Wilson, Vice President 
of the United States, pronounced in 
Salem Hall, in Maiden, Massachusetts, 
November 28, 1875. Maiden, 1875. 
5. Collections of the New Flampshire 
Antiquarian Society. No. 2. The 
Shurtleff Manuscript, No. 153. Being a 
narrative of certain events which trans- 
pired in Canada during the invasion of 
that Province by the American army in 
1 775. Written by .Mrs. Walker. Print- 
ed from the original, with Notes and an 
Introduction by Rev. Silas Ketchum. 
Contoocook, 1876. 6. The Original 
Sources of Historical Knowledge. A 
plea for their preservation. Windsor, 
1S79. 7. Collections of the New 
Flampshire Antiquarian Society, No. 4. 

Address at the 
15, 1879. By 

Annual Meeting, July 
Rev. Silas Ketchum, 

President. Contoocook, 1S79. S.;Paul 
on Mars' Hill. A Sermon preached to 
the church in Freeman Place, Boston, 
August 15, 1875. Ancient Windsor, 

1 OoO. 

But his greatest literary undertaking, 
too great, alas ! for his failing strength 
to complete, was 3 Dictionary of New 
Hampshire Biography, a task for which 
he was peculiarly qualified, not only 
on account of his knowledge of the 
subject, but because of his conscien- 
tious exactness in delving after facts, 
verifying dates, and performing that 
vast amount of preliminary drudging 
which compilers of biography are too 
apt to shirk, and which but few men 
have the patience to attempt at all. 

As early as the spring of 1S76 his 
views upon the- subject had assumed 
definite shap:;. and were written out in 
detail. Subsequently, the venerable 
state historian, the late Dr. Bouton, 
proposed to him, without any knowl- 
edge that he- bad before entertained 
the idea., the task of preparing such a 

work : and 

:lared that the 



which Mr. Ketchum had conceived 
was '' ;' what he had formed in 
his own mind." Similar propositions, 
unfolding a like plan, substantially, 
were shortly made by Hon. Benjamin 
F. Prescott, afterward governor of the 
state, and by Mr. Charles Carleton 
Coffih. Mom Charles II. Bell and 
other eminent gentlemen united with 
these in promising their assistance and 

Persuaded by such high authority, 
and encouraged by a prospect of the 
strongest aid which such a project 
could command, near the close of 
1S77 he .publicly announced his inten- 
tion of preparing the work in question. 
Already overburdened by various du- 
ties, and far from the enjoyment of 
health, with his habitual thoroughness 
and system he immediately set about 
collecting his materials. He advertised 
in various periodicals, issued printed 
circulars, and opened a correspondence 
with leading and influential persons 
throughout the state, or who, being- 
natives thereof, were residents else- 
where. His plans were clearly and 
precisely stated ; he asked the cooper- 
ation of all friendly to the enterprise. 
It was aimed to include the names of 
"1. The living and the dead of both 
sexes. 2. Natives of New Hampshire 
who have acquired distinction either in 
or out of the state. 3. Those born 
elsewhere, but who have become citi- 
zens of New Hampshire and achieved 
distinction. 4. Those who, being 
neither natives nor citizens, have been 
prominently identified with New Hamp- 
shire affairs." Thirty different classes 
were designated under this general 
abstract ; a review of which shows 
that the project was broad in its scope 
and liberal in its definition of " great- 

A deep interest in the undertaking 
was early manifested ; so, proportion- 
ally, did his labors increase. While 
busy hands were intelligently respond- 
ing to his call, there were many who 
misunderstood both his motive and 
his project. Some looked upon it as a 
money-making affair ; others supposed 
he was preparing a collection of eulo- 

gies instead of compiling a hand-book 
of reference. Many interpreted too 
literally Iris advice to say too much 
rather than not enough ; these per- 
plexed him with long stories about 
small matters. A large number of 
inquiries elicited no response ; perhaps 
an equal number of responses created 
the necessity for further inquiry. De- 
ficiencies, of whaterer kind on the 
part of his correspondents, were sought 
to be removed by fresh explanations, 
set forth in a variety of other circulars, 
prepare! successively as new exigen- 
cies demanded. But no ingenuity 
could devise methods to avoid the 
necessity of a vast amount of letter- 
writing. To these researches after 
original material must be added the 
examination and collation of books, 
pamphlets and periodical literature. 
Previously accepted anachronisms 
needed correction ; innumerable differ- 
ences of statement required adjust- 
ment ; and finally, the entire matter 
which came to his disposal must be 
digested into concise and comprehen- 
sive form. 

Such is the bare outline of a single 
kind of work which taxed his exhausted 
energies during the last two years of 
his life. Within that period he col- 
lected 3000 biographical sketches : 
1000 of which he had, at the time of 
his death, revised and written up ready 
for the printer. 

His last "will," with prudent fore- 
thought, provides for the preservation 
of the materials already collected, with 
a view to the completion and publica- 
tion of the Dictionary; but certain 
exigencies exist, which forbid a free 
discussion of the subject here. 


Mr. Ketchum was one of the found- 
ers of the New Hampshire Temper- 
ance Union, and Vice President for 
Grafton county while he remained in 
the state. He rendered efficient ser- 
vice in establishing the New Hampshire 
Orphans' Home, and was a life mem- 
ber of that corporation. He was W. 
M. of Union Lodge, A. P. & A.M., 


Bristol, 1 870— '71 ; and Chaplain of 
the Grand Lodge of New Hampshire, 
1 87 1 — '75. He was active for several 
years in the New Hampshire State 
Teachers' Association, and delivered 
the annual address at Lebanon, 1S70. 
He delivered also the opening address 
of the Semi-Centennial of New Hamp- 
ton Institution, 1S73 ; and the annual 
address before the New Hampshire 
Historical Society, 1877. 

In 1873 he was elected a member 
of the New Hampshire Historical 
Society, and a corresponding member 
of the same in 1S7O. hi 1874 he 
presented this society with 512 volumes 
of early American school-books, which 
he had been several years in collecting. 
Lie also presented to the Qongrega- 
tional Library in Boston ?^?. volumes 
and pamphlets. In 1S7S he was 
elected a member of the New England 
Historic-Genealogical Society, and of 
the Prince Society, Boston ; and a 
corresponding member of the New 
York Historical Society, New York, 
and of the Society of Antiquity, Wor- 
cester. He was a life member of 
most of the religious and missionary 
societies of his denomination. 

With him originated, the idea of 
converting what had been a literary 
and social ''Club of Seven" into a 
society whose purposes should be 
broader and its membership numer- 
ically unrestricted. The Philomathic 
Club, in which he was a leading spirit, 
became the nucleus of the New Hamp- 
shire Antiquarian Society, of which he 
was, in this sense, the founder. He 
wrote a history of the former, which 
has already been mentioned among 
his published works ; he drafted the 
constitution of the latter, which was 
organized in November, 1S73, and 
located in Contoocook \ upon its in- 
corporation in 1875 he was one of its 
charter members. He was its corre- 
sponding secretary, 1873-75, and pres- 
ident from 1876 to j 879, when, on 
account of his complete physical pros- 
tration, he declined reelection. 

In 1S73 nc 8 ave i0 this society 300 
volumes of books, and in 1875 2600 
pamphlets, and conditionally, 1000 

volumes more— by his last will, however, 
the society is made the absolute owner 
of these last as of the others. Its "col- 
lections" of natural, literary, scientific 

and antiquarian curiosities all bear 
witness to his generosity ; while traces 
o( his labor are conspicuous in ever) 
department. To-re-late with complete 
justice all that he did for the society 
would be almost equivalent to reciting 
its history. To say that he was faithful 
to pei form every duty he owed it 
would be a stingy compliment. Lie 
needed no sense of obligation to stim- 
ulate his zeal ; he gave to it more than 
he could afford in time, money and 
strength : while it would be hard to 
overstate his influence in winning pub- 
lic interest, increasing its roll of mem- 
bership, and securing the cooperation 
of persons who were not nominally its 
active members. The train which bore 
his dead form to Contoocook, its burial 
place, carried also a package for the 
society, in charge of his bereaved wife, 
whom he especially instructed] a few 
hours before he died, not to neglect 
its delivery, and that it must be 
promptly acknowledged to the donor 


While it is hardly to be doubted, that 
the death of .Mr. Ketchum was prema- 
turely occasioned by excessive labor, 
there is at least a shadow of consola- 
tion in knowing that this only hastened 
but did not create a disease which was 
of long standing, and was, perhaps, 
constitutional. Traces of its existence 
were certainly observable twenty years 
prior to its fatal termination. These 
need not be here enumerated. Suf- 
fice it that they became quite pro- 
nounced, though not alarming, in the 
autumn of 1872, and six years later 
he fust realized the dangerous charac- 
ter of a physical infirmity which his 
fortitude and hopefulness had so long 
regarded without apprehension. In 
October, 1S7S, he wrote : ''1 am dying 
by inches, J. am not deceived, I have 
no expectation of rallying, though I 
hope to force my body to serve me a 

few years Ion 




he said : "There has hardly been a 
da)- since last September that 1 have 
not had spasms of suffocation, in which 
I was in danger of dying." From this 
condition of prostration and suffering 
he never afterward had more than 
short and temporary respites. Slowly, 
but surely, the disease Continued to 
sap his vitality ; medical skill eould 
not arrest its course. Eh: was com- 
pelled to lessen his labors, long before 
they were wholly suspended. His last 
sermon was not preached until March 
21, about a month before his death. 
He purposed to occupy the pulpit at 
least once more before leaving his 
parish for an enforced absence of un- 
certain length, but he was so complete- 
ly exhausted by his last effort that he 
did not again attempt to conduct 
public services. 

His departure was, at the request of 
his people, delayed somewhat beyond 
the intended date, to afford them an 
opportunity to unite in celebrating the 
twentieth wedding anniversary of their 
beloved pastor and his wife. The 4th 
of April falling upon Sunday, Saturday 
evening, April 3d was appointed for 
the purpose. A severe storm of wind 
and rain did not prevent a goodly 
number from assembling at the church, 
where appropriate exercises were held, 
followed by an ample collation. Mr. 
Ketchum was too feeble to take more 
than a slight part ; and it was only 
with great difficulty that he briefly, but 
with eloquent fitness, replied to the 
presentation address which accompan- 
ied a gift of over $250. It was a 
happy event that his last years in the 
ministry — years of sickness and pain 
— were spent among a united people, 
who appreciated his worth, and who 
were, to the utmost degree, considerate 
of his declining health. 

On the following Tuesday, April 6, 
he with his family, and accompanied 
by their friend, Rev. Harlan P. Gage, 
lefi Poquonock for Boston, nominally 
for a temporary absence, to obtain 
rest and new medical treatment ; but 
he had no doubt it was his final de- 
parture. As he was about stepping 
into the carriage which bore them 

away, he expressed a wish to look 
once more upon Ins books ; but lie 
was too weak to return. His library 
consisted of 2000 volumes and 500 
pamphlets. These, together with his 
manuscripts and all the furnishings of 
a scholar's workroom, were left as 
though their owner had gone out only 
for a day's visit. The journey to Eos- 
ton was, through various unexpected 
delays, very fatiguing to the sick man, 
who was confined to his bed for several 
days after their arrival — not to lie down 
however, rest in this position had long 
been impossible. He could sleep 
only in a sitting posture, either in a chair, 
or propped up with pillows when in bed. 

Less than three weeks longer elapsed 
ere he was dead. A few minutes 
before 5 o'clock on Saturday morning, 
April 24, 1880, his wife was awakened 
by a peculiar sound. Calling him by- 
name she received no answer. He was 
speechless. With Ins own hands he 
closed his eyes, and with scarcely a 
struggle passed away. He died, after 
a confinement to his bed of only a 
day or two, at the house of Mr. Gage, 
where he and his family had abode 
since their arrival at Boston; 

His death was not more sudden 
than he had expected. He had fre- 
quently said that he should thus depart. 
He had foreseen it with calmness, and 
prepared for it with Christian fortitude. 
His attending physicians, Drs. Knight 
and Eitz, confirmed every previous 
diagnosis of his disease, pronouncing 
it an affection of the heart. 

He was interred at Contoocook on 
the following Tuesday, April 27, with 
simple ceremonies ; which were attend- 
ed by numerous friends, including 
representatives from various churches 
where he had ministered, and many 
gentlemen belonging to his own, and 
of other professions. On Sunday, 
May 9, a memorial service was held by 
the people of his late parish at Po- 
quonock ; where a sermon was preached 
by Rev. C. 

which was supplemented 
from Rev. Messrs Gage of Boston, 

A. Stone of Hopkinton, 

Wilson of Windsor, and 
Windsor Locks. 

Godeli oi 


No biographical sketch of my be- 
loved friend would be complete which 
failed to relate something of his per- 
sonal character and habits. These 
can seldom be inferred with certainty 
by observation of a man's public 
career. He may become widely and 
favorably known, and still be the pest 
of his own fireside. Even his calling 
or profession, be that what it may, is 
no sure guarantee of a genial temper, 
a benevolent heart, and a clean life. 
An apology, therefore, will hardly be 
required from one who, after twenty- 
five years of the closest intimacy, 
attempts to supplement an outline of 
Mr. Ketchum's public record with a 
brief mention of his private virtues. 

I know bow strict became his stand- 
ard of religious duty, and that all the 
morality of his youth he finally held 
in poor esteem ; but it would be hard 
to doubt that heaven looks with special 
favor on so much filial devotion as he 
possessed. To this were added gentle- 
ness, sobriety, truthfulness and honesty ; 
virtues which are fortunately by no 
means rare, but . which are seldom 
combined in that degree of excellence 
which he manifested. His speech 
was free from vulgarity and obscenity, 
while anything resembling profanity 
1 never heard from his lips. And yet, 
upon being reminded of this a few 
years since, his reply was: "But I 
hated religion all the time." No 
doubt he hated what he ignorantly 
thought was religion. As much might 
be said of almost every one who rejects 
it. Pie was a doubter, not a scoffer. 
Justice as well as charity requires the 
distinction to be sharply drawn. He 
despised the frauds, not the fruits, of 
piety. He stumbled at the dogmas 
of Orthodoxy, but his life was a rebuke 
to multitudes of its stanchest advocates. 
He made no noisy display of these 
youthful opinions, but he was too 
frank to deny them. Hence arose the 
false charge that he was an atheist. 
It was erroneous, simply because he 
did not deny the existence of God. | 
His views at this time, concerning the ' 
divine inspiration of the Bible, were of 
a lax and liberal sort, and he rejected 

the plan of salvation through Jesus 
Christ; which he afterward accepted, 

believed with growing conviction, and, 
preached with all his might. 

Positiveness was highly characteris- 
tic of the man. It was one of those 
essential qualities which fitted him to 
be a teacher and leader. Possessed 
of this, it was only natural that the 
religious opinions which his mature 
judgment had adopted should be held 
with inflexible tenacity and promulgated 
with all the zeal which sincerity could 

His theology was of that rigid sort 
which allows of no compromise with 
"liberalism/' If he lacked charity in 
any respect, it was toward what he 
considered as skepticism and hetero- 
doxy. These he regarded as more 
insidious forms of sin than open im- 
morality and wickedness. But if the 
man was severe in his religious doc- 
trines, he was liberal in all the amen- 
ities which distinguish the Christian 
gentleman. The austerity of the 
pulpit was no fair exponent of the 
sweet disposition which endeared him 
to his friends and made his society so 

Possessed of simple tastes, plain 
habits and unconventional manners, 
his private character was no enigma ; 
and yet it was only a favored few who 
knew him thoroughly. Genial and 
kindly toward all, and possessed of an 
extensive acquaintance, whom he soon 
made to feel that they understood and 
appreciated him, his chosen compan- 
ions were never numerous. His devo- 
tion to these, through every vicissitude 
of time and circumstance, was more 
like the clinging love of woman than 
the friendship of a busy, care-laden 
man. Their every interest, every 
pleasure, profit or emolument he made 
his own, with a faithfulness which I 
never saw paralleled. 

With them the clergyman became 
a boy again, fond of his jokes, brimful 
of reminiscences and at his ease in a 
temporary freedom, from the harness — 
if that serious business, called "duty," 
can be termed, a harness, to which he 
so willingly adjusted his energies, 



and whose every strap and buckle he 

stretched to their utmost tension. 

And yet, this little group of kindred 
spirits had no monopoly of his unself- 
ish heart. Generosity in thought and 
word, as well as in deed, shone in his 
life preeminent amid other virtues. 
We have seen how liberally he made 
donations to literary, benevolent and 
other societies ; but ins public bene- 
factions are.- less indicative of noble 
impulses than are the privately bestowed 
gifts, whose only record is on the heart 
of the recipient. The poor, the weak, 
and the afflicted were especial objects 
of his sympathy and assistance ; 
while no personal sacrifice seemed too 
great, through the endurance of which 
he could contribute to the temporal or 
spiritual welfare of any who needed 
his help. 

As, from a variety of causes, is too 
frequently the case with men of his 
profession, he was merely "located 1 ' 
in that town or parish where he was 
engaged as a minister ; but, if " home- 
be where the heart is," his home was 

early established. He married. April 
4, i860, Georgia C. Hardy, daughter 
of Elbridge Hardy, Esq., of Amherst. 
Their children are George Crowell, 
born at Bangor, Maine, May 16, 1S62 ; 
and Edmund, born at Bristol, New 
Hampshire, September 17, 1S71. 
His residence might change, now and 
then, but where these were his best 
affections centered. His wife, who with 
both of her children survives him, was 
thus a sharer of the vicissitudes of his 
early manhood, as well as the honors 
and prosperity of his middle life ; and 
being possessed of literary tastes like 
him, jealous of his reputation, and 
qualified and ready to assist him as 
the help-meet of a clergyman and the 
companion of a man of letters, his 
family was happy and well ordered ; 
while its hospitalities were free and 
cordial to the fullest degree. 

The breaking up of such a home, 
and the bereavement consequent on 
the death of such a friend, father and 
husband, make the public loss of Silas 
Ketchum, great as it is, seem insignincatn. 



A wild bird sings within its greenwood 

A chain of thrilling, liquid melody, 

As if the pent up music in its breast 

Must egress find, or it from surfeit die. 

But take that bird, imprison it in gold. 

And bid it sing its happv wildwood 

Will it obey? 'Twill beat itself to 

Against the bars which claim its lib- 

A gaudy moth, with gaily tinted wings. 

Flutters in joy o'er every blushing flower : 

Drunk with the perfumes, glinting in the 

A glitt* ring fgem. fresh from creation's 

But catch that moth, though wi' the 
daintiest touch, 

And strive to count the jewels it doth wear. 

The gaudy paint is left upon your palm. 

And what remains? A faint and dab- 
bled worm. 

Wild with the battle heat, with eye of fire, 
The faithful war horse thrills at trum- 
pet's sound. 
WTeels at a touch of spur or pat of hand. 
And struggles to be foremost in the tight. 
But bid that horse befastened to a plough, 
Ihe whip, and goad, and language rough 

and stern, 
Will it respond with eager, willing work'? 
No ! th' proud heart will burst 'gainst 
thongs which bind. 

A human soul, with aspirations high, 
Trammelled and held in check by sordid 

Will beat till death against the body's bars, 
Then soar away on pinions free and light. 
God grant that once bevond the cares of 

The will which fetter and hold down our 

There may be freedom for the gifts lie 

There may be room lor the expanding 






Various attempts have been made ! 
by philosophers and theologians to : 
reconcile the theory of evolution with | 
the scriptures. Two of these essays j 
appear in the " Popular Science Month- > 
ly" for May, j 874. Stanley Jevons, 
F. R. S., first states the theory. He 
says: "Mr. Herbert Spencer's theory 
of evolution purports to explain the 
origin of all specific differences so that 
not even the vice of a Homer or 
Beethoven would escape from his broad 
theories. * * * Every man, ac- 
cording to these theories, is no distinct 
creation, but rather an extreme speci- 
men of brain development. His near- 
est cousins are the apes, and his pedi- 
gree extends backward until it joins 
that of the lowest zoophytes." There 
is certainly a broad field for design, in 
the Great Designer whose existence 
this author admits in passing from the 
"ascidians" of Darwin to a Newton 
or Homer. But why commence with 
a marine animalcule instead of a plant. 
All life is a unit. It is just as easy to 
commence at the lowest form of life 
which is fixed to the place of its growth, 
as to advance to that stage of being 
which shows locomotion. The second 
article is an extract from a lecture by 
Dr. Smith, whose identity is left with 
this vague description, on ''Evolution 
and a personal Creator." The learned 
doctor adopts the theory of evolution 
and then attempts to show that, if true, 
it would no more militate against a 
personal Creator than the fact that the 
process of evolution existed at all. 
Supposing the theory to be true, "we 
find, in Christianity the completion of 
the process by the union of man with 
God in the incarnation." Here cer- 
tainly is a break in the continuous 
chain of evolution ; here the personal 
creator interposes to alter the law of 
"natural selection," and sets up a new 

law of personal election. Now, o* 
what avail is the reconciliation of script- 
ure and evolution, if the soul's immor- 
tality be denied? What is the use of 
a Revelation, if the future world be 
blotted from its pages? 

A majority of the advocates of evo- 
lution hold that mind is the result of 
motion in the molecules of the brain. 
Like heat, light, electricity and mag- 
netism, it is a function of matter. 
When the organism is changed, or the 
atoms, monads or molecules form new 
unions with other atoms, monads or 
molecules, then thought which resulted 
from the motion of these primordial 
forms, ceases to exist, as light and 
heat die, the fuel that fed them is 
consumed or changed to new forms. 
Hence, -the soul of every man fails 
with the decay of his brain ; and dies 
when that organ suffers dissolution. 
There is, therefore, no world to come ; 
there is no immortality. Men come 
and go like plants ; the winter of 
life destroys the mental growth of 
years ; and the mind that was once 
" pregnant with celestial fire," becomes 
as lifeless as the ashes of last year's 
conflagration ! What use have we, 
then, for that gospel which ''brings life 
and immortality to light?" It is vain 
to talk or write of a reconciliation of 
two theories which are mutually de- 
structive. If one lives, the other dies. 

There can be no other alternative. 
Learned divines may show that evolu- 
tion admits or even requires a personal 
God ; still, if this brief life is our 
whole existence, we derive no consola- 
tion from the demonstration that nat- 
ural selection produced ail specific 
differences in animated nature, and 
that that law had a law-giver. So far 
as this life is concerned, our condition 
is neither made better nor worse by any 
accumulation of arguments ihat go to 



prove an eternal Designer. Wc are 
animal organisms, developed by an , 
eternal and unalterable law of natural I 
selection, and are no better than the 
beasts that perish. Our souls are the 
result of physical forces, and cannot, | 
possibly, survive the dissolution of the | 
body. Such a theory would justify j 
suicide in all cases of remediless disease 
or suffering, because death is an eternal 
sleep ; and in such cases is the abso- 
lute cure of pain and sorrow ! If 
scripture can be tortured into an agree- 
ment with evolution instead of creation, 
of what value is such a book to us? 
The wisest and best of men for thou- 
sands of years have read and interpret- 
ed the book of Genesis as revealing 
the creation, not only of man but of 
the physical universe. Now if this 
record teaches something entirely dif- 
ferent and can be made to teach evolu- 
tion from eternity instead of creation 
in time, of what value is such a book 
to us? It teaches nothing with cer- 
tainty ; we do not know that evolution 
will be found in it, when a more plausi- 
ble theory shall have been invented. 
How can a book be called a revelation, 
when nothing is revealed ! How can 
it teach us our origin when, as the 
wise have read it, the lessons derived 
from it contradict all the facts of 
science, and differ as much from 
reality as eternity from time, as specific 
creation from universal development ? 
They tell it that the Bible has been | 
made to sanction astronomy and geol- 
ogy without subversion, why may it not 
be made to confirm evolution? Be- 
cause the opposition of theologians to 
astronomy and kindred sciences pro- 
ceeded from a misinterpretation of the 
inspired volume ; but evolution plainly 
contradicts the Bible. No glosses, no 
logic can possibly harmonize the breath * 

! of the Almighty that made man 

"living soul." with the "correlation of 
forces.'' Man created "in the image 
of God" can never be made identical 
with man evolved from an ascidian, by 

natural selection. 

"Objects, notions and words" are 
coextensive with rational man. If 
thinking is a function of matter, or a 
product of force, or the result of mo- 
tion, beginning and ending with nerv- 
ous excitation or molecular action of 
the particles of the brain, -who has the 
ability to define force or motion, or 
neural action that will produce an Iliad 
or an Organurn ? There is nothing in 
the universe, says one, but matter and 
force ; there is nothing but matter and 
motion, says another ; there is nothing 
but cerebration, or neural excitement 
in the nerve centre, says a third ; but 
how do these oracles explain the origin 
of thought? Who understands or can 
define one of these philosophical 

Mr. Holyoke, the leading English 
apostle of materialism, thus sums up 
the terrible results of his own theory : 
"Science has shown that we are under 
the dominion of general laws — evolved 
by irrational matter and force — inexor- 
able laws of unyielding necessity. 
There is no special providence ; prayers 
are useless ; propitiation is vain. 
Whether there be a Deity, or nature be 
deity, it is still the god of the iron 
foot, that passes on without heeding, 
without feeling, without resting. Nature 
acts with fearful uniformity, stern as 
fate, absolute as tyranny, relentless as 
destiny, merciless as death ; too vast to 
praise ; too inexplicable to worship ; 
too inexorable to propitiate ; it has no 
ear for prayer j no heart for sympathy 
or pity ; no arm to save." 

THE TORIES OF 1766 AND 1776. 


THE TORIES OE 1766 AND 1776. 


Jfe> ■ A fe A iJli ' ' 







In 1679 a bill was introduced in the 
British Parliament to exclude the Duke 
of York from the line of succession ; 
the advocates of the bill called those 
who opposed it Tories, as a title of 
contempt. (This is the first occur- 
rence of the word Tory in English 
history.) Subsequently the Tories took 
the "broad-field,' : and their guiding 
principles became the support and 
protection of things as they were. 

George the Third was the great 
founder of the Tory party which sprung 
into new life at the close of a lung and 
weary night in February, 1766, when 
at four o'clock in the morning, the 
resolution passed the British Parlia- 
ment giving England the right to do 

what the treasury pleased with the 
three millions of freemen in America. 
"The Americans were henceforward 
excisable and taxable at the mercy of 
Parliament. It was decided as a ques- 
tion of law, that irresponsible taxation 
was not a tyranny, but a vested right, 
that parliament held power, not as a 
representative body, but in absolute 

The colonies must submit or re- 
sist. The House of Commons was no 
longer responsible to the people ; and 
this night it was held to be the law 
and was not 
ictririe of rep- 
thc bill of 

that it never had been, 




tnat the 
was not 

i 7 4 


The new Ton-ism was the child of the same, to the General Assembly -01 
modern civilization, its pedigree went | committee of safety of the colon}'. 

back to the revolution of 1688. The I 

Tory party took the law as it stood, j 
and set itself against reform ; in the 

future its leaders and expounders were 
new men ; the moneyed interest that 
opposed the legitimacy and aristocracy 
of the middle age became its ally. 
The Tory faction retained implicit 
reverence for monarchy and the church. 
It addressed itself to the sympathies of 
common people, and the inhabitants 
of the rural districts. It would have 
annual Parliaments, it would have dem- 
ocratic supremacy, it led the van of 
patriotism and its speeches were savor- 
ed with republicanism. In the primor- 
dial struggle of the American people 
for freedom it was not strange that men 
should exist who adhered to the old 
regime. In 1770 the British govern- 
ment repealed all taxes obnoxious to 
Americans, except that of the 3d per 
pound on tea. Associations were 
formed restraining its members the use 
of this article, under penalty of being 
held and considered Tories and traitors. 
And these total abstinent tea associa- 
tions, together with the "Association 
Test," caused New Hampshire, "The 
Mother of New England Rivers," to 
bring forward 773, what Englishmen 
called Loyalists and Americans called 
Tories, and Si 99 men, called by En- 
glishmen Rebels or Democrats, and by- 
Americans Whigs or Federalists. 

The '''Association Test" was as fol- 
lows : 

"We, the subscribers, do hereby 
solemnly engage and promise, that we 
will, to the utmost of our power, at the 
risque of our lives and fortunes, with 
arms oppose the hostile proceedings 
of the British fleets and armies against 
the United American Colonies." 

This was sent by the committee of 
safety, M. Ware, chairman, to the sev- 
eral boards of selectmen throughout 
New Hampshire with the request that 
all males above twenty-one (21) years 
of age (lunatics, idiots and negroes 
excepted) sign the declaration and 
make return thereof together with the 
names of all who shall refuse to sisn 

And it is here worthy of note that this 
declaration as proclaimed by New 
Hampshire was the text of the national 
Declaration of Independence, signed 
July 4, 1776, nearly three months later. 
When the inhabitants of Claremont 
were put to the "Test" the town was 
found to abound with men who refused 
to sign the declaration, for reasons 
either from a love of the old mode of 
administration, conscientious scruples 
or timidity ; but from thrilling incidents 
which have come down to, and related 
by some of our old citizens, one can 
but come to the conclusion that their 
adoration for the king and monarchy 
was firmly genuine. 

Were are told of one poor fellow, who 
was so profuse with his monarchial 
sentiments, that the people strung him 
to the limb of an apple tree, where he 
hung until life was nearly extinct, when 
he was taken down, resuscitated, made 
to retract and flee the colony. Of 115 
names returned by the selectmen, 
thirty-one were reported as <l having 
been shone the declaration" and 
"they refused to sign." 

'Tory Hole, the subject of our cut, 
sketched by Prof. Rod. E. Miller, is a 
wild, picturesque, secluded spot, located 
about a mile from the town-hall, on the 
road leading ro Windsor, Vermont, at 
the base of a semi-circular formed hill, 
like a horse-shoe, only a few rods 
from the highway, yet so recluse is it 
that strangers must have guidance to 
its entrance. 

During the whole seven years' war 
Tory Hole was a noted rendezvous for 
"Loyalists" and it was one of the 
links that formed a chain of commu- 
nication from the Canadas to Manhat- 
tan Island for the English through the 
valley of the Connecticut. And here 
is an amphitheatre of nature, whose 
area is encircled by lofty hills that defy 
the lightenmgs and mock the loudest 
thunder peals, hills evei green with the 
North's cone-bearing pines, tint reluct- 
antly and mournfully lass the treacher- 
ous and poisonous hemlock, or sigh 
to'rds the foppish spruce, wnose limbs 




are decorated with roving climbers and 
make music with the robin's perpetual 
carol, home of the partridge and the 
squirrel. From the earth crystal waters 
spring forth to give life to its living 
creatures, and then steal silently un- 
derneath the turf, as if no visible per- 
petuation of anything living might be 
discovered by man. It was here that 
these traitors gathered together and 
renewed their allegiance to the king 
by recruiting for, and enlisting in his 
service ; here the emulators of John 

1 Wesley assembled to reiterate him, that 
! ''Our sins will never be forgiven until 

! we fear God and honor the king." It 

I was here they were fed and provided 

I for by the families of CI are m on t, who 

; were recompensed by deeds of land 

! in Canada. For miles around all the 

i king's sympathizers were knowing to 

the existence of this hiding place, and 

Tory Hole remained undiscovered and 

undisturbed by the Federals until 

between Great Britain and the new 

continent peace was declared. 



It was a fine, bright morning toward 
the last of September, 1S79, that my 
life and destination were tranquilly 
confided to the care of the Boston, 
Concord and Montreal railroad at the 
Concord depot, my objective point 
being the old Livermore Place, which 
lies just across the Pemigewasset within 
a few hundred rods of Plymouth vil- 

My journey was not a long one, the 
fifty-one miles from Concord to Ply- 
mouth being passed in less than two 
hours by the watch. It did not seem 
that length of time, for the country we 
passed through presented many attrac- 
tions. I gazed with much interest 
upon the succession of land and water 
views that chased each other into the 
background, bared my head in the 
presence of the "Smile of the Great 
Spirit" — the sunshine shimmering on 
the surface of Lake Winnipiseogee — 
drank in great gulps of mountain air 
that came sweeping down from the 
Franconian hills, and thrilled with 
ecstacy at the sweet vision of the 
smiling Pemigewasset valley, yes, smil- 
ing valley, I use the word advisedly. 
It always smiles to me, and I have 
traversed it a score of times, if once. 

Long before I wished, we were at 
Plymouth, the gateway of the moun- 
tains, and at the hour of one we were 
defiling into the grand dining-hall of 
the Pemigewasset house. They say 
the cuisine of this hotel is admirable, 
and this was at the season of the year 
when all the country delicacies are in 
vogue. But I have no faculty for 
remembering dishes, luxurious, bad or in- 
different. I do remember, however, 
of visiting the room where Hawthorne 
died in the arms of his dearest friend, 
Franklin Pierce, on the morning of 
May 19, 1864, and of feeling the tears 
spring to my eyes as I thought of the 
literary genius, the greatest that Amer- 
ica ever produced, whose spirit departed 
from its earthly tabernacle (I hope 
that persons of advanced intelligence 
will pardon the old-fashioned phraseol- 
ogy, which is somewhat behind the 
age) within this small, square, white- 
walled room. His fame and his genius 
fills the world, but his body lies mould- 
ering in the little seven by two feet 
grave in Mount Auburn cemetery. So 
little does the greatest man need after 

After a very pleasant hour spent in wan- 
dering about the pleasant village, during 

1 76 


which we peeped into the. eld court- 
house, where Webster, Mason and 
Ichabod Bartlett had once given 
measure of their legal acumen and 
eloquence, visited the State Normal 
School and called upon our friend Kim- 
ball of the Grafton County Journal, we 
chartered a team and drove over the 
river into Holderness. A beautiful 
drive of nearly a mile along a highway 
bordered by huge willows and graceful, 
silvery birches with a few evergreens 
intermingled, brought us to our desti- 
nation — Livermore Place. 

There stands the old mansion, more 
than a hundred years old, crowning the 
broad plateau of a hill, the seat for 
more than fifty years of the proud old 
family of Livermore, a name in days 
long gone spoken of with respect not 
immingled with awe. It is one of 
those grand, old-fashioned farm-houses, 
built to last as long as the forest stands, 
and when folks had plenty of room 
and plenty of timber to put round it — 
a grand type of the days of hospitable 
wealth, with high pitched, gambrelled 
roof, dorrncr windows, huge chimneys 
and ample rooms. It is situated in 
the midst of a charming prospect of 
mountain and country scenery. No 
wonder the family was great, for here 
are views which could not fail to give 
intellectual and moral growth. The 
old house with its lodge, occupies a 
stately and silent square by itself, with 
a view which takes in the mountains of 
Franconia on the north and the mead- 
ows of the Pernigewasset on the 
west. In full sight ripples the beauti- 
ful river. The banks are verdant, the 
view unsurpassed ; a golden sunlight 
is over everything, and the breath of 
autumn's luscious vintage is in the air ; 
and you look and see the antique walls 
of the mansion which has been the 
home of as noble a race as ever lived 
in the new world. 

The builder of this historic mansion 
was Hon. Samuel Livermore, one of 
the most distinguished men of New 
Hampshire in the Revolutionary period. 
All of the Livermores in this country 
are supposed to have descended from 
John Livermore, who settled in Water- 

town, Massachusetts, as early as 1642. 
Samuel Livermore was one of the 
great grandsons of John Livermore. 
He was born May 14, 1732, atWal- 

tham. At the 

of twenty he gradu- 

ated at Nassau Hall, Princeton, one v of 
the most ancient and respectable 
collegiate institutions in the country. 
Selecting law for his profession, he 
became a student under Hon. Edward 
Trowbridge, and was admitted to prac- 
tice at the supreme judicial court of 
Middlesex county in 1756. The next 
year he removed to New Hampshire, 
establishing himself at Portsmouth, 
where he soon became a distinguished 
member of the bar. He- filled some 
of t'ne most honorable and lucrative 
offices in the Province, and was for 
several years judge advocate of the 
admiralty court, and subsequently suc- 
ceeded VVyseman Claggett as the king's 
attorney-general of New Hampshire, 
In this position he became the most 
necessary advisor to John Wentworth 
in the troubles that were growing up 
between the colonists and the crown. 

From the first Mr. Livermore was 
found on the popular side, and doubt- 
less it was on account of some embar- 
rassment between himself and Gov- 
ernor Wentworth the he removed his 
home to Londonderry, then the second 
town of that province in wealth and 
population. From 176S to 1772 he 
represented that town in the general 
assembly. He still continued to hold 
the office of attorney-general, thus 
showing that, though an opponent of 
the encroachments of vice regal power, 
his abilities were respected by the 
Wentworths. His circuit embraced 
not only all New Flampshire, but the 
counties of York and Cumberland in 
Maine as well, extending as far as 
Portland. His earnings at this time 
could not have amounted to less than 
$5000 per annum, a large sum for the 

One of Livermore's ambitions was 
to be a great land owner. He was 
one of the original grantees of the 
township of Holderness. and by pur- 
chase gradually became the proprietor 
of nearly two thirds of its territory. 


/ / 

. r Gov. Wentvt • irth's i i ght he paid 

rnd for James KLelley's the su a of 

. •: 3. In ti:is \va\ some ten or 

e thousand acres in Holderness, 

>ton and Plymouth came under 

•■• ownership, and it was good land. 

. pasture, woodland and valley, 

. e yearly income brought more 

i one good pound into the proprie- 

Vs pocket. Incited perhaps by the 

Lainple of Governor Wenfcworth, who 

d built 


had a grist- 

;o n 




residence on the shores of Lake Winni- 
piseogee in Wolfeborough, and perhaps, 
desiring to lie at a distance from 
\ ■ tempest that lie saw gathering over 
the government at Portsmouth, Liver- 
more sold his farm in Londonderry to 
j >hn Prentice, a graduate of Harvard, 
who had studied law with him, and 
[.•wards was attorney-general of the 
state from 1787 to 1793. and betook 
himself with his family to his wilderness 

1 his was in the ye, 



At that time there were but nine 
families in Ilolderness. William Piper 
had come there in 1763: the others, 
John Fox, John Sheppard, Bryant 
Sweeney, Samuel Eaton, Joseph Sin- 
1 lair, Andrew Smith, John Herron and 
Nathaniel Thompson settled later. 
S -vera! families followed the Liver- 
mores from Londonderry and vicinity. 
Among them was John Porter who 
focame the first settled lawyer of Ply- 
mouth^ but returned to Londonderry in 
*So6, which town he represented for 
eleven years. Mrs. Porter was a very 
- complished lady, and was Mrs. Liver- 
more 's most intimate friend. 

Mr. Livermore lived successively in 
two or three small buildings before he 
built the large and handsome mansion 
in which he died, and which he erected 
faring the last of the Revolution. 
During the first years of the struggle 
he took no prominent part. It was 
from no lukewarmness to the cause, 
however. Doubtless his high office 
tnat lie had held under the crown and 
"is well-known friendship to Sir John 
Wentworth caused some of the patriot 
-Mors to regard him with suspicion. 
; hese years he remained entirely aloof 
from public affairs, caring for his own 

affairs in 1 iolclerness 

mill at the mouth of Millbrook, and 
here he mighi have (teen seen any day 
in 1776 and '77 dressed in a white 
suit, and tending the mill with his own 
hands. We find him soon after this a 
member of the State Assembly from 
Holderness-. lie had now a. splendid 
opportunity to prove that he was no 
lukewarm adherent to the cause of the 
colonists. He threw the. whole weight 
of his power and influence into the 
popular scale and became the control- 
ing spirit of the assembly. Such men 
as Meshech Weare and Matthew Thorn- 
ton, who knew his worth and his vast 
ability, embraced his cause. In 1778 
he wa.s appointed attorney-general of 
the state, again superseding Wyseman 
Claggett, who had held the office for 
the two preceding years. 

In 17S0 Samuel Livermore was 
elected a delegate to the Provincial 
Congress to succeed Josiah Baxtlett. 
Congress then met at Philadelphia and 
the journey thither was a horse-back 
ride from Ilolderness of eighteen days, 
with food and shelter of the most mis- 
erable kind for man and beast. From 
his diary, which has been preserved, 
we are told something of the trials he 
met by the way. After striking New 
Jersey he could obtain no better food 
for his horse than coarse meadow hay, 
and one night could not obtain that, 
his animal going without anything. 
He was a splendid horseman and rode 
like a centaur. Tall, stately, and of 
lofty bearing, he presented a superb 
figure on a horse. I have heard that 
Hon. James W. Patterson's grandfather, 
Jacob Sheppard of Londonderry, used 
to say of hum, that "on horseback he 
was the mo.^t beautiful object he ever 

During the dispute relative to the 
New Hampshire grants — the territory 
now constituting the state of Vermont — 
Mr. Livermore was selected by the 
legislature to act in behalf of New 
Hampshire. His well-known legal 
abilities prompted this appointment 
and excellently well fitted him for that 
duty. While acting in this position he 
was appointed to the high and 1 ssponsi- 


I)lc office of chief justice of the 
superior court of judicature. The 
duties of the chief justice at that time 
were very onerous. He was expected 
to attend every session of the court, 
ari.d as a usual thing being the only 
lawyer upon the bench, was of course 
called upon to decide all questions of 
la\y. He retained this office from 
1782 to 1790. 

In 17S5 Judge Livermore was again 
appointed a delegate to Congress, and 
served, though he still retained his seat 
upon the bench. He was also one of 
the committee with Josiah Bartlett and 
John Sullivan to revise the statutes then 
in force and report what bills they 
deemed necessary to be enacted at the 
session of the general court. At the 
convention which formed our state 
constitution in 1 788 he was a promi- 
nent member. Under the constitution 
he was elected representative to Con- 
gress, and being reelected served in 
that body till 1 793. In the convention 
of 1 79 1 for revising the state constitu- 
tion he was the presiding officer. His 
influence at this time was almost abso- 
lute The constitution is subscribed 
with his name. But he had not yet 
filled the measure of his honors. 

In 1793 he was chosen United 
States senator to succeed Paine Win- 
gate, and so well and ably did he per- 
form the duties of that exalted station, 
and so well did he please his constit- 
uents, that he was reelected. His 
commanding position in the Senate is 
indicated by the fact that he was pres- 
ident, pro tern, of that body in 1797 
and again in 1799. He resigned his 
seat in 1801, and retired to his seat at 
Holderness, where he died June, 1803. 

Samuel Livermore was intrinsically a 
great man. Travellers tell us that the 
mountain men of the Alps are accus- 
tomed to call to each other, with a 
peculiar far-reaching cry, and to answer 
one another from peak to peak. The 
traveller may hear this cry but cannot 
give it in return. So across the centu- 
ries a few have spoken whose words 
resound through all the years. Such 
an one was Judge Livermore. Though 
dead he yet speaketh in that state 

document to which his name is at- 
tached. Through a hundred living 
witnesses who received their impulse 
to greatness from association with the 
great man we know whereof he spake. 
Upon his own age he made a profound 
impression. Men like Jeremiah Smith 
of Exeter, William Plainer of Eppi 
James Sheafe of Portsmouth, and 
Charles H. Atherton knew of his great 
ness. The latter declared that he was 
the great man of New Hampshire in 
his time, and he not only knew him 
'well but was capable of estimating his 
character. Flis home at Holderness 
was characterized by the tastes of a 
cultured-statesman, and by the superi- 
ority of his elevated private as well as 
public character, no less than by his 
commanding personal dignity and the 
extent of his possessions, he ruled the 
town with the absolute power of a dic- 

By his wife, Jam 

the daueT.tei 

Rev. Arthur Brown, whose name ;i 
familiar to the readers of Longfellow's 
••Tales of a Wayside Inn," Simael 
Livermore was the father of five chil- 
dren : Edward St. Loe, born at Ports 
mouth, 1762; George Williamson, 
born at Londonderry, 1764; Arthur, 
born at Londonderry, 1766; Elizabeth, 
born at Londonderry, 1768 ; and Sam- 
uel Livermore, second, who was b a:. 
at the Holderness mansion in 17S3. 
Edward St. Loe practiced law in 
Portsmouth, and was an associate justice 
of the New Hampshire superior court 
from 1 79 7 to 1 790. Shortly afterwards 
lie removed to Massachusetts, where he 
was elected a representative to Con- 
gress two term- from the Essex dis- 
trict. He died at Tewksbury, Mass., 
September 22, 1S32, aged seventy. 

Harriet Livermore, the preacher and 
enthusiast, was one of the daughters 
of Edward St. Loe. She was born ' 
Portsmouth in 1782. She was gifte< 
but erratic. In January, 1827, 
preached on a Sabbath, in the hall • . 
representatives of the capitol at Was 
ington. The President, John Que >' 
Adams, was one of those present, as 
was also James Barbour, the then .. 
retary of War. She U said to have 



''sung melodiously, her softest note 
filling the vast room." Her preaching 
was also thought elegant and effective. 
After an eventful life, spent in this 
country end the Holy Land, she died 
some thirteen years since, in Philadel- 
phia. One of her strange notions in 
regard to the fulfilment of prophecy 
was, "that she was foreordained and 
foretold, in prophecy, to be an impor- 
tant actor in the great drama described 
iii the eleventh chapter of the Apoc- 
alypse. Of the two witnesses men- 
tioned in verses 3-13, who were to be 
shin in the Holy City, he unburied 
in the streets three days and a hah', 
and then stand on their feet alive, etc.. 
she was to he one." With this in view, 
she visited Palestine at three different 
times. Lady Hester Stanhope, the 
famous "queen of Lebanon," and 
Harriet Livermore, the American "Me- 
junneh" — "the Yankee crazy woman ,: 
— are so id to have resembled each 
other in some, respects. Of the latter, 
says one: "Half insane, half wierd. 
and whohy wilful, a virago and a vixen 
in one person, she was, in a sense the 
poet never thought of: 

" Commixture strange of heaven, earth, hell," 

without the first of the three elements. 
Sac is the woman referred to by Whit- 
tier in his " Snowbound." who 

" Blended in n like degree, 
The vixen and the devotee." 

In her early days she was accus- 
tomed to visit the home of Whittier's 
boyhood, and was well known to him 
who has • so faithfully and admirably 
portrayed her singular character. 

Arthur, the third of the judge's sons, 
succeeded to the old family mansion 
at his father's death., He trod in his 
father's steps and was the most con- 
spicuous o{ the three distinguished 
sons. He was a man of varied ac- 
quirements, a profound scholar, and 
served at various times in office for the 
interests of the state. For eleven 
years, from 179S to 1809, he was as- 
sociate justice of the superior court. 
For the next four years he was chief 
justice of the same court. Then under 

a new system he was associate justice 
of the supreme court, from 1813 to 
1816. He was six years a representa- 
tive to Congress, serving from 1S1 7 to 
1 S 2 1 . an d a g ai 11 fro rii 1 S 2 3 1 r 8 2 5 . 
From 1825 to 1832 he was chief jus- 
tice of common pleas. The last closed 
his public services, which had con- 
tinued through a period of thirty-four 
years. Although by nature imperious, 
Arthur Livermore was an able and us- 
ual')- an upright judge. His impa- 
tience and pride would, however, break 
out at times. In 1705 he opened a 
court at Hopkinton, but not finding 
the lawyers promptly on hand to attend 
to their business, summarily dissolved 
the court, tauntingly remarking that. 
by the next term the counsel would 
probably be ready to begin work. This 
summary proceeding nearly lost him 
his office, for it was carried to the leg- 
islature, and he only saved himself by 
the skin of his teeth, on the final vote. 
Upon another occasion his outrageous 
insult to a member of the bar was also 
carried to the legislature, and his re- 
moval would have been effected had 
he not rendered a full apology to the 
injured lawyer. As a usual thing, the 
lawyers stood in fear of him, for he 
never hesitated to speak his mind, and 
his sharp tongue and fearless bearing 
always added double force to tile casti- 

I do not know what motive or mo- 
tives prompted him to the act, but at 
the close of his public life Arthur Liv- 
ermore sold the old homestead in 
Holderness, which by sales and gifts 
of land had dwindled to a thousand 
acres, and took up his residence in 
Campton on the Moses Little place. 
There he resided the rest of his life, 
and there he died in 1853, on the first 
day of July, aged eighty-seven. He 
was buried beside his father at the old 
family burial ground at Holderness. 

With Arthur closed the glory of the 
Livermore race in New Hampshire, 
after a brilliant course of a century's 
duration. His two sons died before 
him. Samuel being lost by the wreck 
of the steamei Pulaski, June 14, 1S3S, 
and Horace ('yiiig from a stroke of 

i So 


eleven day 


Samuel Livermoi 

his brother's 


of the extraordinary trio o r son-;, and 
perhaps the ablest of them, was a 
graduate of Harvard in iSou. He 
studied law, settled at New Orleans, 
and became eminent in his profession. 
He was the author of several works of 
recognized worth upon law ; a treatise 
on law of " Principal and agent of 
sales by auction," and a work on 
" Contrariety of laws of different states 

in Portsmouth 
. years earlier; 

and nations," are 


among the profession. He died at 
the meridian of his brilliant career, in 

His sister Elizabeth married Deacon 
William Brown of Waltham, and left 
children. George Williamson Liver- 
more, the second of the four sons. 
died young. Of the other Livermores 
of New Hampshire who have won dis- 
tinction, Mathew, who lived at Ports- 
mouth, and was attorney-general of 
the province, and advocate for the 
king in the courts of admiralty during 
the first years of Benning Wentworth, 
was a cousin of. the fust Samuel Liver- 
more. Rev. Abiel A. Livermore, a 
divine and author of some note, who 
was born at Wilton in 1811, was the 
grandson of Jonathan, the first minis- 
ter of that town, who was the brother 
of Judge Samuel Livermore. 

The great house at Holdemess passed 
through several hands after the Liver- 
mores left. Finally it was purchased 
by the Episcopalists who opened it as 
a school for boys in 1S7S. The inte- 
rior of the house has been somewhat 
changed, but outwardly it looks nearly 
as it did when its founder completed 
it a hundred years ago. Several huge 
willows and stately elms stand in 
the yard, under whose shadows must 
have walked many and many a time 
the stately figures of the great judge 
and his noble sons. 

Away to the right, distant only a few 
rods, is a little, square wooden structure. 
which, despite a new coat of paint, 
speaks of venerable antiquity. This 
building was the second Episcopal 
church ever built in New Hampshire 

(the first being bail 
more than a hundr 
and is ninety- five years old this very- 
year. Samuel Livermore and most of 
the early settlers of Holderness were 
Episcopalians. For several years Mr. 
Livermore held Sabbath worship at his 
own residence, reading the Episcopal 
service and sermons himself. Subse- 
quently he erected this church, and in 
1791 Rev. Robert Fowle became 
rector of tire parish, living in Mr. Liv- 
ermore's family some fourteen years. 
His rectorship continued for more 
than thirty years. The number of tie: 
members of the church was never 
large ; there were about forty in 1795 ; 
but it was an orderly and God fearing 
congregation. Every Sunday morning 
they came flocking in, whether it was 
hot or cold. Some came on horse- 

back over the 

Is which had been 
cut through the forests, others in rude 
wagons or sleds, many on foot. Judge 
Livermore was always there with 
his family] and all his servants 
and hired help, not a small num- 
ber. Farmers dressed in home- 
spun sat beside the i: squire" with his 
queue, and his knee breeches and long 
waist-coats of broadcloth. Proud and 
reserved as he might be at other 
times, Samuel Livermore asked for no 
recognition of rank in the house of 

In the burying ground which sur- 
rounds the church rest many of the 
old settlers and their descendants. 
Among those who repose undisturbed 
in the shadow of the ancient edifice 
are the three generations of the Liver- 
mores. Aristocratic monuments mark 
where they slumber. The first stone 
bears the following inscription : 

"In memorr of the 


Late Chief Jaitice of New Hampshire, 

Senator in the Congress, U. .S., 

Who died Mav IS, 1S03. 

Ajr 1 

And of JANE, his wife '<? 


The first church mini* 

Who died 1-V 

ter of Rev. Arthui 
ittleO iu NT. FI.) 

Character of the .)• 

live in t! 

r . ..... ■ . 

Arthur, their son. lies be; led near, 
with his brother, George W. Livermore 



beside him. One stone commemo- 
rates the death of his two sons. 

Life's tabor di 

Jn this, their las 

[JitheecU/d o'er the 

IMie storms of Li 

p. -<•■' 
ast vt 

irclv laid 





Late in the golden afternoon 
drove on to Holdemess village. 
distance is five miles clue east 
over a charming road. Many of 
views were wild and romantic. Hold- 
erness is not a large town, and its pop- 
ulation is but little over seven hun- 
dred. The village contains some 

There is consich rable manufacturing 
one. There is a shoe factory which 

! turns off three thousand pairs of boots 

J and shoes annually. A file manufactory 

docs a business of $3000, and two 

I thousand deer sains are tanned every 

s. a church, 

forty or fifty dwelling liolu 
post-office and school-house, beside a 
large hotel and several boarding houses, 
for the inevitable summer tourist in- 
cludes this place in his travels. Six 
thousand dollars are received annually 
from this class alone. 

Holderness is a pretty place to visit 
1 in the summer season. All of its attrac- 
; tions arc in their greatest beauty then. 
j The routes to Plymouth, Centre Har- 
j bor and VYolfebo.rough are then avenues 
I through leafy verdure. Livermore 
I place is crowned with radiance. The 
! sunlight cuts gay and fantastic shadows 
! on its time-worn walls. The zephyrs 
j murmur lovingly among its ancestral 
1 trees. But o'er and around it still 
; there is a melancholy which all will 
I feel. Doubtless in the winter time 
i this feeling would be aggravated. 



She climbed the hill -lowly ; not so 
much because of weariness, but because 
the familiar ground was so dear to her, 
she did not choose to pass over it 
quickly. She knew the prospect which 
awaited her, although twenty years had 
gone by since her feet last pressed this 
■soil. She had toiled long, and had 
achieved something of the success she 
had craved, yet in all these years she 
had never watched the sun rising or 
setting, without recalling the sunrises 
and sunsets which had so delighted her 
when she was a child. 

It was a strange home-coming, with 
not one in whose veins flowed the same 
blood as in her own to welcome her : 
and it seemed strange to the practical 
people among whom she had come, 
that she should care for the deserted 
farm and dilapidated house, which had 
merely a nominal value in their eyes. 
But she did care, and after paying a 
stipulated price for what should have 

been tier's by inheritance, she felt that 
she had a home. 

It did not matter to her that there 
were large gaps in walls and fences and 
that fields were fallow. It did not mat- 
ter to her that windows were broken 
and doors unhinged. She was seeking 
rest ; such rest as is found in activity 
which does not draw too heavily upon 
mental or physical strength. She could 
afford to seek this rest where she pleas- 
ed, and therefore she had come to the 
old homestead. She was accompanied 
by an Englishman and his wife, whose 
ability and faithfulness she had tested, 
and who had ample reason for the grat- 
itude they expressed in deeds, rather 
than in words. 

Neighbors declared there was not a 
habitable room in the house; but not- 
withstanding this, three people had 
found shell ei in it for the night, and 
now, before the morning fo'j; rolled 
away, Rachel Wallace had donned 



cloak and cowl, and set forth to climb ! 
the hill. How well she remembered 
that other far-off morning, when she had 
stolen out while the stars were shining, 
to bid adieu to scenes she might never 
sec again. The future was then dark 
before her. She had but one solace, 
one comfort. She was alone in the 
world, and how devoutly she thanked 
God for this can only be known to those 
who, like her, have been chained and 
fettered by the ties of relationship. She 
did not then stop to analyze her feel- 
ings, or question if this thankfulness 
was Wrong. She was free, and she 
hated bondage. 

Her mother had been long dead, and 
at her father's death, his wife claimed 
every article of household furniture ; so 
Rachael had only the scanty clothing 
she had earned, and such education as 
could be obtained in a poor district, 
where cheap teachers dispensed cheap 
learning. People wondered what would 
become of her. More than one offered 
her board for the work she would do. 
but these offers were declined. To se- 
cure money was her first object, and 
money could be earned in a cotton 
mill. The work would be new to her, 
and it might be distasteful ; but it was 
a step towards independence, and the 
realization of a dream in which she had 
sometimes indulged. 

A weary stage ride, for which, she was 
indebted to the kindness of the driver, 
afforded her ample time for reflection 
and anticipation. She was shy, awk- 
ward, and painfully conscious of her de- 
ficiencies. She was going among strang- 
ers who, at best, would regard her with 
indifference. Received into a large 
boarding-h'ouse, she was half frightened 
by the noise and bustle, so that she 
found it difficult to repress her tears. 

"Did you say your name is Rach- 
el?" asked a pale-faced woman who 
sat next her at the table, and who had 
been selected to teach her the mys- 
tery of weaving. 

" Yes, ma'am, my name is Rachel," 
replied the young girl. 

11 1 like the name. It was my sis- 
ter's name, and she was very dear to 
me. She must have been about your 

age. and J think you might look like 
her. if you had lived as she did." 

; ' I hope she didn't live as I have. 
Since mother died, I have had to do 
just what I didn't want to, and J couldn't 
do anything I wanted to. It is dread- 
ful to do so." 

•• So it is, Rachel. I knew you had 
lived so, the minute I saw you. You 
look as though you were hunting for 
something you couldn't find." 

•'• I am. Will you help me finCi it?" 

" Yes, Rachel, I will," and this prom- 
ise sealed a friendship which grew and 
strengthened with acquaintance. i; I am 
old enough to be your mother. I have 
had two dear children, and been glad 
to see them die. You can't think what 
it is to feel like that ; but I have felt it, 
and I have never wished them back." 

" It must be dreadful," whispered 
Rachel. i; I wish you were truly my 
mother. Then we could live together 
and help each oi her ; J always wanted 
to help somebody and have somebody 
help me, but it used to seem as though 
I was just in the way, and doing wrong 
things all the time. My father never 
cared about me, and my step-mother 
said I was an awful trial to her. I nev- 
er could do anything to please her, and 
when father died, she said I needn't 
expect an}- help from her. I didn't 
want it, either. I was glad when I was 
alone, and could come away by my- 

' f I am sorry for you, Rachel," and 
the voice lingered lovingly on the dear 
name. " There has been a wrong, or 
you wouldn't feel so. It seems as 
though you were sent to me." 

"I think I was," and for the first 
time in many weeks, Rachel Wallace 
smiled happily. "I want to learn, and 
do some good, and have a home of my 
own, where I sha'n't be in anybody's 
way. I was always in the way in fath- 
er's home." 

" You won't be in the way here; 
you are needed here, and it don't make 
so much difference about the work you 
do, if it is only what is wanted." 

•' I don't believe it does. I hope I 
shall learn quick." 

'■ If you don't, you needn't be dis- 



couraged. You will learn in time, and 

thorough learning is best. That is what 
I used to tell my Scholars when I kept 

" Did you ever keep school?" 

"Yes. You will find a good many 
here who have kept school, and a good 
many more who are studying, hoping 
they may be teachers sometime. I 
have wished I had somebody to study 
with me. I can't get used to doing 
t'nings alone." 

"T wish I could be the somebody." 

" You can. I can teach you some 
things, and some we can learn." 

For answer to this, Rachel Wallace 
threw her arms around the neck of her 
friend, and wondered much at the tears 
with which her own cheeks were wet. 
She was but a child, knowing nothing 
of the profound emotions of mature 

Mrs. Eastham kept the young girl 
constantly with her. They walked to- 
gether to and from their work, occu- 
pied the same small room, and count- 
ed themselves fortunate to be thus priv- 
ileged. -Rachel proved to be a quick 
learner, so that she was soon able to 
earn good wages, which were expended 
judiciously. After purchasing neces- 
sary articles for her wardrobe, she had 
a few dollars still at her command ; and 
when she held in her hands a book, ten 
pages of which she had read two years 
before, she thought no higher happi- 
ness could ever come to her. 

'•'The ten pages set me to thinking," 
she said to her friend. " I thought if 
some other poor girl had earned a 
home, I might ; and after that I kept 
planning how I could begin to do it. 
There must be a beginning." 

''Yes, and beginnings are always 
small. I guess at the first start of Mer- 
rimac river, way back of everything 
else, there is just a little spring, where 
the water comes up out of the ground, 
perhaps a drop at a time. If 1 was in 
your place, I should feel as though I 
could do anything. But I am not like 
you. It has been hard for a woman to 
take care of herself, but there are bet- 
ter days coming. There will be more 
factories where women can earn good 

wages, and money will make a man or 
w o m an i n c 1 e pen d e nt . " 

" That is what I want, Mrs. East- 
ham. I want to be independent." 

'•' You can be. There are girls here 
who will never be any happier or bet- 
ter than they are now. But you—" 

The sentence was not completed, 
and it was its incompleteness which 
roused anew the ambition of her to 
whom it was addressed ; as if she had 
been told that her possibilities of achiev- 
ment were limitless. Those about her, 
observing the gradual change in dress 
and manners, prophesied that she would 
yet be ''smart and handsome." They 
wished she really belonged to Mrs. 
Eastham, who, poor woman, had only 
a miserable husband, to burden, rather 
than help her. 

lie was a burden ]ong endured, but 
at length death relieved her and she 
was once more free. Then, indeed, 
she counted herself rich ; so rich that 
she could indulge in the luxury of a 
home, consisting of two rooms in a 
quiet neighborhood ; and here the true 
life of Rachel Wallace began. It was 
an humble place ; but there were sunny 
windows where plants would grow and 
blossom, and cosy nooks where simple 
furniture could be tastefully arranged. 
By easy management, time was found 
for necessary household duties without 
infringing upon other work. Mrs. East- 
ham soon waived her position as teach- 
er, while she watched with glad sur- 
prise the progress of her pupil above 
and beyond her. 

" I can't keep up with you Rachel, 
dear," she said one evening. " My 
day for hard study has gone by. but I 
can be glad to do some things for you, 
so you can be a scholar. I should 
help my sister so if she had. lived, and 
I will help you. I have had too much 
trouble to keep a strong head. I made 
a mistake when I married. I didn't 
know what I was doing, but it was a 
terrible mistake. Don't do as 1 did." 

" No, I will not," answered Rachel. 

It was easy to say thus, smce she had 
but one absorbing interest, nor dream- 
ed that another might conflict with this. 

Three years went by, and slit: had 



made decided progress as a scholar and 
intelligent reader, although in her re- 
tirement few appreciated her real supe- 
riority. About this time a young man 
from her native town, whom she ha 1 
known, and who had treated her with 
kindness when she was all unused to 
such treatment, called upon her-, and 
expressed his pleasure at meeting her 
again. He had come to the city, seek- 
ing his fortune, and was glad to meet a. 
familiar face, although lie looked at 
Rachel with surprise. 

" I should hardly know you. You 
have grown handsome," he said, frank- 
ly. "There is something more than 
that, too," he added. " I can feel the 
change, but I don't know how to de- 
scribe it." 

"It is not necessary you should try," 
was her laughing response, and she led 
the conversation away from herself, 
while he wondered more and more 
what influence had transformed the 
awkward girl into a charming young 
lady. At home, he had thought him- 
self quite above her in the social scale. 
Now he doubted if he should presume 
to visit her a second time. He did not 
long doubt, however, for she soon al- 
lowed him to see that he was more 
welcome than would have been any 
other person connected with her old 

She asked few questions concerning 
those she had left. Former associa- 
tions had not been so pleasant that she 
cared to renew them. 

"Your step-mother is very poor," he 
remarked, at length. 

"Is she?" responded Rachel, add- 
ing quickly : " She could hardly be oth- 
erwise. She was not a good manager 
or busy worker, and she certainly had 
nothing from my father's estate. The 
furniture was valuable only because it 
had once belonged to my mother. I 
should be glad to buy it of her." 

" I don't doubt but she would be 
glad to sell it to you. She told mother 
she was afraid she hadn't done right by 
you. She said she never was used to 
children, and she thought you were hard 
to get along with." 

" I presume I was, and I know now 

while it in- 
e in duty, 
She was 

i she had a great deal to trouble her. I 
! don't wish to judge her hardly." 
I " She judges herself. She told moth- 
| er she would be glad to ask your for- 
! giveness. ^i^ is broken down a good 
| deal." 

When her visitor had left, Rachel 
! Wallace sat down to think what she 
! would do ; and not long after Mrs. Wal- 
| lace received a letter which, 
creased her sorrow for failu 
yet filled her heart with joy. 
to be provided with a place she could 
call home, and could also depend up- 
on a certain amount of money to be 
paid to her quarterly ; not sufficient for 
ail her wants, but enough to stimulate 
her to make some exertion for herself. 

"To think. Rachel should do all this 
for me when I never did anything for 
her," said the poor woman to her 
cousin, whose cottage she was to share. 
" It's too much to believe. And she's 
going to be a wonderful woman other 
ways. That's what folks say that know 
about her. I don't understand. I can't. 
But it's likely the strangeness is work- 
ing out the right way." 

Ignorantly and almost unwillingly 
Mrs. Wallace had solved the mystery of 
her step-daughter's life. The strange- 
ness she could not comprehend, and 
which had removed the child from or- 
dinary sympathy, was the very charac- 
teristic, now devoloped under fostering 
influences into great mental force, while 
its possessor was finding day by day 
the intangible good she had before 
sought in vain. 

" I think it was my real self, such as 
God made me, or gave me the ability 
to be, if I could only learn how to 
think and feel and act. That is not 
just what I mean, but I cannot express 
it any better. Sometime I. shall be able 
to put my thoughts into words. I know 
I shall, Mother Eastham." 

"I believe you will, my dear," was 
replied confidently to this assertion. " I 
just sit and think about you when yon 
are away from me, and. sometimes J 
feel as though I should lose you. I 
could hardly believe you were the same 
girl who asked me for help if I lied net 
seen you growing and changing before 



,: v eyes. You have worked hard all I 
Lime, hut yon have gained enough 
, j>. iv for it."' 

V'es, I have, and hard work has 

....•; me good-. I used to bate work, 

ause I could never do it my own 

ov or have any benefit of it. Now I 

re something gained by every day's 
■ \ rk and every evening's study." 

This \va^ true when affirmed; but as 
nine passed on, and Rachel Wallace 
| irn-ed more and more of her own ca- 
;. city for improvement and happiness, 
it was true in a broader, deeper sense. 

Her acquaintance with Guy Weston 
was also exerting a strange influence 
upon her. Before leaving home he was 
a leader in school and in all social 

- ircles ; and after a certain rusticity of 
manners had disappeared, he was as 
popular among those with whom he 
row associated as he had been among 
iiis former companions. He often saw 
Rachel, and was her only escort to 
j ! ices of amusement and entertain- 

Mrs. Eastham watched the friend- 
ship with many misgivings. She knew 
that the young man, active and agree- 
i i Le though he was, was not strong 
enough for Rachel ; not profound 
enough to comprehend the needs of 
her noble nature ; not generous enough 
'■-■ bid her God speed, should she essay 
to walk in paths he could not tread. 
The watchful friend felt all this, yet had 
not learned enough of human hearts 
and human motives to understand fully 
the danger of her young companion. 
Marriage with Guy Weston would dwarf 
the life of Rachel Wallace • while a 
i rolonged intimacy would absorb time 
and thought which should be devoted 
to mental culture. 

At length, she came, herself, to real- 
ize this, yet hesitated to break the bond 
Utween them until it was rudely sun- 
dered by his own hand. She stood 

- enb with grief and surpi ise ; realizing 
tften how truly she loved one who had 
spoken to her no word of affection. It 
wa s the old story, often told, yet more 
°ften lived, in which the most tender 

gs and sweetest sympathies are 
evoked only to be turned back upon a 

head made lonely and desolate by such 

The young girl wondered at the 
sense of loss which pervaded her whole 
nature. The sun shone less brightly. 
Life took on a more somber aspect, 
and everywhere she missed some sweet 
gladness. It was well that she had ac- 
customed herself to think closely and 
clearly ; else she might have groped in 
darkness for many and many a weary 
day. She went out and came in, at- 
tentive to both work and study, chiding, 
meanwhile, the listlessness winch she 
could not conceal, but which gradually- 
lost its power ; until she saw Guy Wes- 
ton with the woman he introduced as 
his wife, she could congratulate them 
heartily. As she afterwards told her 
friend, it was sharp but salutary disci- 
pline. She learned more of the possi- 
bilities of her life ; and such knowledge 
has its own price, to be paid in the 
heart's experience. 

It may be that her congratulations 
and alter cordiality surprised his old 
acquaintance ; for certain it is that he 
felt something of disappointment at her 
simple friendliness. His vanity was 
wounded, and, moreover, a comparison 
between Rachel and his wife did not 
tend to heal the wound. He had 
half pitied her for his desertion. Now 
he knew that she had no' need of pity. 

Her kindness to her step-mother 
seemed to soften the asperities of both 
and bring them nearer to each other. 
Mrs. Wallace became very desirous to 
see Rachel, urging her to spend a sum- 
mer in the country, but this favor was 
not granted. 

" I never wish to go to my native 
town, unless I buy the old place and 
make my home there," she said to Mrs. 
Eastham. "When I begin to feel my- 
self growing old, I may be glad to rest 

"You will change much before then," 
wa^ replied. "You will not be the same 
as now. If you do not choose to visit 
your mother, why not invite her here? 
It would make her very happy, and 
give me an opportunity for making my 
visit to Maine without leaving you alone. 
You would be relieved from the care of 



housekeeping, and so have more leis 

" But I never enjoyed being with 
Mrs. Wallace. We were always at va- 
riance, and we might be now." 

li Possibly, but I think not. Try the 

,: I will," responded Rachel ; and the 
decision made, she soon carried into 

Mrs. Wallace read the cordial invi- 
tation, then laid down the closely writ- 
ten sheet and wept with childish aban- 
donment. The kindness was more 
than she deserved, yet she believed that 
she could be of some benefit to the 
dear child. Ah 1 if the child had only 
been dear to her years before, how 
much of unhappiness they would have 
been spared. 

" I will come as soon as I can get 
ready, and I will try to help you. I do 
believe J can, and want to." So her 
answer was given. Preparations were 
quickly made, and before she had re- 
covered from her surprise, she reached 
the city of spindles. 

" Rachel, what are you going to do 
when you get all through trying and 
doing?" she one day asked her step- 
daughter, after their acquaintance had 
progressed to a degree of intimacy that 
she felt at liberty to do so. 

" I never expect to see that time," 
was replied. "I have always been try- 
ing ever since I can remember, and I 
can never stop." 

iC Well, I don't know as you can, but 
it seems as though you'd come to an 
end sometime." 

" Where, mother? " 

" I don't know. Don't you ever 
mean to get married?" 

" I don't mean anything about it. I 
am not going in search of a husband." 

"No, child, I wouldn't advise you 
to," said Mrs. Wallace, laughing. Folks 
thought you and Guy Weston would 
make a match ; but after I begun to 
get acquainted with you I hoped you 
wouldn't. You'd get awful tired of him." 

" I never did get tired of him, yet 
you see he chose some one else for his 
wife, and it would not be right for me 
to covet my neighbor's husband." 

" I guess you won't be doing wrong 
that way. Guy's wife ain't half so good 
looking as you be, and his mother says 
she's awful shiftless." 

"She looks tired and sick now, and 
I am afraid she is getting discouraged. 
Guy thought life was a holiday, and 
when he found out his mistake he ought 
to have been willing to take his share 
of the burdens." 

' : l don't guess he'll take any bur- 
dens he can get rid of. He ain't one 
of that kind, and there's a good many 
more like him. I might have done 
different from what I did after I mar- 
ried your father." 

"Yes, mother, we might all have 
done different. We were poor, but not 
so poor that we could not be happy. 
It seems to me if 1 could be one of a 
family where they all loved each other, 
and every one tried to help the rest. I 
could live on very little money, and 
have every thing beautiful, too." 

il I guess you could, child, and I 
ho^e you'll have a chance to live:, 
sometime. I want to ask your forgive- 
ness for not doing as I ought to by you." 

i; Don't do that. Don't ask my for- 
giveness," responded Rachel, drawing 
closer to her mother and returning a 
long, tender embrace. 

" Child, I love you more than I ever 
did anybody else in my life, more thm 
I thought I could. If I should, die to- 
morrow, I think I should be happier in 
Heaven for having lived with you this 
summer. Don't send me away from 
you, Rachel." 

" I won't, mother. You shall stay 
with me, and give me the mothering I 
always wanted." 

" Don't say that, Rachel. It hurts 
me. I ought to have given it to you 
when you was little ; but I'll do all I 
can now, and if you'll let me stay with 
you I won't cost more than I can help." 

" That is not to be considered, al- 
though you may be sure you will save 
me more than you will cost, so weshm 
both be benefitted. Oar relation ; are 
now settled for life," added Rachel, 
springing to her feet, and patting her 
mother's wrinkled cheek. <; We shall 
be very happy together." 



Prom that day there was no discord 

between them. All bitterness was fpr- 

. ten ; and when, five years after. Mrs. 

■*Vallace folded her hands in death, she 

. is sincerely mourned. 

•• 1 am getting to be an old woman, 

1 i.vself," remarked the daughter, when 

iSking with Mrs. Eastham, who had de- 

ided to locate herself permanently else- 

" Vou do not seem old to me. You 
are not old," was replied. 

•' Rut I am thirty ; an old maid, who 
by all rules of custom and propriety 
ought to regret a lost youth with its 

"' l)o you regret them?" 

" No, indeed. 1 am looking for- 
ward, not backward. I would not live 
Dver even the years since I have known 
vou, much less those winch preceded, 
i have been reminded of old times this 
morning. I saw Guy Weston and his 
wife. She is a poor, tired, dissatisfied 
! toking woman, with hard!)' a trace of 
the pre'u'mess she had when younger, 
and Guy looks as dissatisfied as she." 

" I presume he is as dissatisfied. 
There was a short acquaintance, a 
speedy marriage, and ample time for 

" Yes ; I am sorry for them both, but 
one cannot interfere with, advise or 
help. Guy used to be bright and ani- 
mated ; now he is dull and stupid and 
half cross. I don't wonder his wife 
finds him an unpleasant companion." 

Not long after this Rachel Wallace 
saw her old friend again, as he was 
leaning on the railing of a bridge, gaz- 
ing into the water. 

" Good evening," she said, pleasant- 
ly. ^ 

"Good evening," he responded, turn- 
ing to look at her, and so staying her 
steps. " I believe you have drank of 
the fountain of perpetual youth. You 
look younger than you did when we 
went to school together." 

" 1 feel younger, but I am not so 
vam as to suppose that the years have 
not left their record upon my face." 

"They have, and the record has 
beautified it." 

" Your eyes have taken in beauty 

from the landscape. 1 hope your fam- 
ily are well." 

"As well as usual," replied the young 
man, while a frown contracted his brow. 

Rachel had outgrown him, as she 
had outgrown many others who started 
with her. The power she craved to 
clothe her thoughts in words had been 
acquired. Her hands, too, had been 
trained to cunning work. As a design- 
er, she commanded constant employ- 
ment at a generous salary. From the 
first she had set aside a part of he 
earnings as a reserve fund ; and as this 
had been well invested, she found her- 
self comparatively independent, with 
both means and leisure for travel. She 
might even indulge herself in idleness 
had she so desired ; but habits of in- 
dustry had become so fixed, thai head 
or hands must needs be employed. 
Wherever she went she made some new 
discovery. Whatever she saw suggest- 
ed much which was unseen ; and thus 
her store of knowledge increased with- 
out thought or effort. 

Her face grew radiant. Her eyes 
shone with a clearer light. There was 
no more groping for a path all un- 
known ; no more questioning of wis- 
dom yet unproved. This grand assur- 
ance which comes to but kw surprised 
her. It was like a revelation from 
above ; a commendation from one who 
cannot see. 

The years were shorter as they flitted 
by. She welcomed spring, only to greet 
the more glorious summer, which lapsed 
into autumn with its gorgeous fruitage, 
and then gave place to winter, ere the 
pleasures of either season had paled 
upon her. 

Those younger than herself forgot 
that she was their senior; forgot, too, 
that she was what some are pleased to 
call a lonely woman, who has missed a 
woman's crowning happiness. No one 
thought of pitying her. As well pity a 
successful man who has won his way 
from obscurity to some coveted posi- 

" They say Rachel Wallace has got 
to be rich," said an old man, as he 
paused by an upland field overgrown 
with blackberry vines. "If she'd been 

1 88 


a boy instead o 

iii, perhaps 


conic oacK and du\ this farm, h'i! go 
cheap, and it's a pleasant site. They 
say Rachel knows most everything. It 
would have been better for Guv Wes- 
ton if he'd married her, but likely she's 
gained as much as he's lost." 

" J guess she has. He'd do to ride 
out with, but when it conies to living 
right along, he ain't the one to make 
things easy and pleasant for a woman. 
1 should like to see Rachel, and I wish 
she'd buy the old farm. I'd take it 
myself, if I had money to spare. When 
it's advertised, I'll send her the notice." 

In accordance with this decision the 
notice was sent, when Rachel lost no 
time in requesting the sender to pur- 
chase the estate for her. She. bought 
it for a less sum than she had expected, 
feeling rich indeed when she was its 
acknowledged possessor. 

Neighbors speculated as to what she 
would do, but she made her plans care- 
fully through the winter, and in the 
early spring proceeded with their exe- 
cution. She did not fear that her ex- 
periment would prove a failure. Mr. 
Winsey, her man of all work, was a 
practical farmer, glad once more to 
engage in congenial work ; while Mrs. 
Winsey found alt things attractive, from 
the low rooms with heavy beams to 
the cherry tree:, which had remained so 
long unpruned. They were little more 
than a thicket of tangled branches. 

Supper was prepared and eaten, but 
it was no wonder that Rachel Wallace 
slept little that night. The ghosts of 
departed years rose before her. She 
occupied the same little chamber in 
which she had arranged her treasures a 
quarter of a century before. She watch- 
ed the day dawning through the same 
narrow window, and hurried forth to 
climb the hill, that she might see the 
fog roll away as the sun came up. 

"O God, J thank thee," she mur- 
mured, as she stood upon the summit. 
" I thank thee for all the way in which 
thou hast led me, even to this very 

This way had not been unlike the 
morning, with its fog and gloom dis- 
pelled at length by the clear shining 

of tire sun of prosperity. She was too 
much absorbed in thought to note tin 
gradual brightening until it burst upon 
her in its clear effulgence ; and here 
was a continuation of the similitude 
which impressed her with still more 
reverent gratitude. 

The landscape was but little chang- 
ed, except where forests had been fell- 
ed, or more pretentious dwellings sub- 
stituted for plain, weather-beaten cot- 
tages. There were hills and valleys, 
with gleams o[ water and outlines of 
shadowy nooks ; and her osvn home, 
fairest of all. It might not be attractive 
to others in its homely guise, but to her 
it was very dear. It had for her a rare 
charm, which increased as she retraced 
her steps towards it ; and as Mrs. Win- 
sey greeted her at the door, she was 
fain to press her forehead to its thresh- 

''You look very happy, Miss Wal- 
lace," said the good woman. 

" I am happy," was replied, with em- 
phasis " I am going back twenty- five 
years and take up my childhood again, 
and I think I shall be the happiest child 
in town." 

These were strange words to come 
from the lips of a woman who had 
reached the speaker's age ; yet ere 
midsummer, people talked of her as 
" the most cheerful, wide-awake girl 
anywhere 'round." She was also prais- 
ed for the good condition of her farm ; 
wonderful, considering how much was 
to be done. In purchasing it she had 
made a profitable investment. Three 
people were benefitted ; while at the 
same time she would realize a liberal 

Guy Weston's friends both blamed 
and pitied him that he had not won 
her for his wife, and when he came 
with his family, the contrast between 
her, with her bounding energy, and 
the weak, peevish woman to whom 
life was a burden, made the presence 
of the latter well nigh intolerable. 
They reproached themselves for this, 
however, when they stood by an open 
grave, and motherless children clung 
to the father's hand, j )eath had come 
in an unexpected hour, bringing with 



il the mantle of charity which so - 

enfolded the past that all delects w<:vc. \ 
concealed. The husband, remember- 
ing his own shortcomings, blamed 
himself, where he had before blamed 

her of whom he could now ask no 
foi jiyeness. 

With the unseemly haste which 
characterizes some: really worthy peo- 
ple, there were prophecies that at last 
the anticipations of long ago might 
now be realized ; and it may be that 
Mr. Weston himself dared to dream 
of this ; but his dreams were not to be 
re ali zed. "Once and forever" was 
the motto of his old companion. 
There could be no more of tenderness 
in her heart for him ; neither did she j 
fancy it would ever wake to such love j 
as she would only bestow upon one I 
v. ho could win her entire devotion, I 
giving in return equal measure. 

But the summer was for her richly 
laden. She had come to the quiet I 

town for rest, and by a rare ordering of 
Providence < ame another seeking the 
same precious boon. A man who 
in forty years had seen much o( the 
world and much of sorrow was attract- 
ed hither, and meeting Rachel Wallace 
under peculiar circumstances, felt at 
once the subtile influence no words 
can describe, but through which he 
recognized the presence of a kindred 

The knowledge came to her more 
slowly, yet not less surely, transform- 
ing the happy "girl" into a happier 
woman ; and when amid autumn's 
splendor the marriage service linked 
her life with that of another, she looked 
forward to the future joyously, without 
doubt or misgiving. 

Still achieving, she is admired by all 
who know her ; while in her own fam- 
ily she realizes her ideal of a truly 
happy home. 



Some two years ago I had a discus- [ 
sion with some gentlemen concerning j 
the derivation of the name of thatown j 
of Centre Harbor, they contending'! 
that it was named for an inhabitant of 
the town by the name of Senter, and j 
that it should be spelled Senter's Har- \ 
bor, and would have been but for the 
ignorance of the clerk who engrossed 
the act of incorporation ; while I con- 
tended that the. name originated in 
consequence of its being the centre of 
three harbors — Moultonborough Har- 
bor being on the east, and Meredith 
Harbor on the west. I was in a mi- 
nority, and was silenced but not con- 
vinced, and since then have been on 
me lookout for evidence to sustain my 
I ^sition, which evidence I have found, 
and propose to present, believing that 
it cannot be controverted. 

In June, 1788, Penning Moulton, 
and fifty-one others, " inhabitants of 
Meredith Neck, the northern district 
of New Hampton and New Holder- 
ness, and of the southern district of 
Moultonborough," petitioned the legis- 
lature to be severed from the respec- 
tive towns to which they then belong- 
ed, and incorporated into a "Town- 
ship by the name of Watertown," for 
the following reasons : " That the 
lands aforesaid are so surrounded with 
ponds and impassable streams running 
into and out of said ponds, and so re- 
mote from the Centos of the respec- 
tive towns to which they belong, that 
we have hitherto found the greatest in- 
convenience in attending public wor- 
ship." The matter came before the 
legisla t u r e j a n 1 lary 1 , 17 8 9 . a n d a com- 
mittee, consisting of Hon. Joseph Bad- 



ger of Gilmanton, Daniel Beede, Esq., 
of Sandwich, and Capt. Abraham Burn- 
ham of Rumney was appointed " To 
view the situation of the premises pe- 
titioned for, * * * and report their 
opinion thereon to the General Court 
at their next session." 

The committee visited the locality 
in May following, with a copy of the 
petition, in which the bounds of the 
proposed town were described, and 
containing the names of the petitioners. 
They made up their report on the 
premises, and wrote it on the back of 
the copy of the petition, dating the 
same " Centerr Harbor May y e 28th, 
1789," It seems from this, that there 
was a landing then called " Centre 
Harborr," eight years before the town 
was set off and incorporated. 

1 nree men by the name of Senter 
signed this petition, and as the Com- 
mittee had it before them when they 
made up their report, it is not proba- 
ble that such men as Judge Badger, by 
whose hand the report was made, or 
either of the others, would have written 
"Center" if they had intended to 
write Senter. 

The aforesaid committee reported 
against the petitioners, saying, "That 
while the lands proposed would make 
a convenient small town it would be a 
damage to Holderness and Meredith, 
and that neither of the towns would 
be able to support public worship," 
and the matter then dropped until 
1797, at which time a petition was 
presented to the Legislature, bearing 
date "New Hampton, June S, 1797," 
signed by James Little and forty-six 
others, praying "That your honors 
would set off such a part of said town 
as is included in the following bounds 
as a town, and that it may be incorpor- 
ated by the name of Centre Harbor." 
The bounds are then given which they 
say are "agreeable to a vote of the 
town of New Hampton in the year 
1786." The legislature appointed a 

j hearing for their next session, and 
I required the petitioners to post a copy 
j of the petition and order of court in 
some public place in said town eight 
weeks before said hearing, and serve 3 
j like copy on the selectmen. J have 
before me the cop}- which was posted, 
written in a plain hand, the corners 
showing the nail holes, and containing 
a certificate dated Nov. 18, 179 7, stating 
that it was posted at the store of Moses 
Little in New Hampton, eight weeks 
prior to said date ; and also a copy 
containing an acknowledgement of the 
selectmen of service on them, in both 
of which the name of the proposed 
town is written "Centre Harbor." 
Now if it was the intention of the 
people to name the town Senters Har- 
bor, is it possible that it could have 
been posted in a conspicuous place, 
and undoubtedly read by nearly every 
man in town, and the error remain 
undiscovered? Certain!}' not. 

Add to this fact that it has been 
spelt "Centre" in the town records 
from that time to this, and that the 
first petition from the town after its 
incorporation, which was for the 
appointment of Lieut. Winthrop Rob- 
inson as justice of the peace, was dated 
"Centre Harbor, April 27, 179S," and 
I think the following facts have been 
unquestionably established. First: 
That there was a landing on the lake 
called Centre Harbor some years 
before the town was set off, and so 
called because it was the centre one of 
three harbors. Second: That the town 
took the same name when it was 
incorporated, at the request of the 
petitioners, and that they had no inten- 
tion of hiving it named Ssnter's 
Harbor. Third: That the gentleman 
(Mr. John Calfe?) who engrossed the 
act of incorporation was not guilty of 
the sin of ignorance, and has been 
much abused. Decision of aforesaid 
gentlemen set aside. Verdict for the 





There stood in the olden time a castle lofty and grand ; 
Its towers gleamed far o'er the vale to deep- blue ocean's strand : 
Around it fragrant gardens wrought an ever-blooming crown, 
And the silver spray of fountains fell rainbow-tinted down. 

There sat a haughty monarch, in land and victories great ; 
Upon the royal throne he sits in pale and gloomy state ; 
His lightest thought is terror and what be looks is woe. 
The words lie speaks are scourges, in blood his mandates flow. 

Once to this lordly castle came a noble minstrel pair, 

The one with golden ringlets, but white the other's hair ; 

The aged man, a harper, a noble steed bestrode. 

The young man walked beside him, and cheered the weary road. 

The oM man to the younger spoke : " Be ready now, my son ; 
Think o'er our deepest melodies, and strike the fullest tone ; 
Bring all thy skill to action, sing love, and sing of grief; 
Our task it is to-dav to move this stony-hearted chief." 

Within the marble hall stand the singers side by side ; 
Upon the throne are sitting the king and his royal bride ; 
The monarch, angry-visaged, the lurid northlight's gleam, 
The queen so mild and gentle, the full-moon's radiant beam. 

The old man struck the chords, he struck with skilful care, 
Then sweet and ever sweeter the sound fell on the ear ; 
The youth's strong voice, harmonious, in heavenly richness blends. 
The old man's voice replying, the song to heaven ascends. 

They sing of spring and love, of tender days of youth, 

Of freedom, manly honor, of holiness and truth ; 

They sing of all the hopes that stir the human breast : 

They sing of all the noble deeds that man's estate have blessed. 

The crowd of courtiers standing by their scorn forget to show ; 
The king's most valiant warriors to God their proud heads bow ; 
The queen, with joy enraptured, the power of song confessed, 
And cast before the mmstrebs feet the rose upon her breast. 


" You've turned my people from their liege, attempt you now m> wife?" 
The angry monarch trembling cried, his heart with passion rife ; 
He hulled t;ic sword ; the stripling's heart received the glittering blade. 
Whence came those golden melodies a crimson fountain played. 

The group of knights and courtiers was scattered as by storm ; 
The old man's sheltering arms received the stripling's lifeless form ; 
He wrapped his mantle round him close and placed him on the horse, 
And then upright he bound him fast, then backward turned his course. 

But when before the minstrel's eyes the massive gateways tower, 

He paused, and seized his well-loved harp, his harp of matchless power, 

He dashed it 'gainst the marble wall — it fell a shapeless thing ; 

Then cried he till the echoes through hall and garden ring : 

" Woe be to thee, proud castle ! may music's gentle tongue 
Ne'er speak within thy walls again in harp or minstrel song ! 
No ! sighs and tears alone, and slaves with bended knees 
Be thine, till thou in ashes thy angry God appease S 

Woe rest on thee, bright garden ! In spring-time's softest days 
I show to you this corpse with staring, stony gaze, 
That now your flowers may wither, your fountains all be dry, 
That ye through time hereafter a barren waste may lie. 

Woe unto thee, assassin ! accursed by minstrel's song, 
In vain be all thy struggles for victory's blood-stained crown ! 
Thy glories all forgotten, may darkest night surround ; 
Thy name, like dying whispers, in empty air be found ! " 

The old man's words are spoken, and Heaven has heard the cry ; 
The lofty pile is fallen, the halls in ruins lie ; 
A single column rears its head from all the ruined mass, 
Already broken, this shall fall ere Night's grim shadows pass. 

Around, where smiled the garden, a barren desert-land ; 
No tree extends its shadow, no fountains pierce the sand ; 
The king's name wakes no melody, no poet's lasting verse ; 
Dishonored and forgotten ! this is the minstrel's curse ! 




J kings, VIII : 57, 58. 

The Lord our God re with us as he was with our fathers : let him never 
leave nor forsake us : that he may incline our hearts unto him, to 
walk in all his ways and to keep his commandments and his statutes, and 

his judgments which he commanded our fathers. 

One hundred and fifty years ago to-day, a little band cf Christian men and 
women, the early settlers of this town, met to organize this church and to 
receive by installation its first pastor. The assembly was gathered in a small log 
building, situated just below tins spot, in a little opening in the wilderness. The 
building and all the actors have long since passed away. These scenes and 
services are very different from those of that day. The results of that day's 
action drawn out into the light of to-day are more apparent than ever before. 
They call upon us, the living members of this church, at this anniversary again 
10 acknowledge the God who was with them, to recall gratefully the heroic lives 
and Christian self-denial of the fathers, to venerate their characters, to rejoice in 
the inheritance into which we have entered, and to gather new impulse to 
Christian devotion for the future, while we pray that their Lord, our God, be 
with us. 

The history of the first century has been written. Fifty years ago to-day, using 
the same text, the then young pastor reviewed, with the generation before us, 
the history of the century gone. He told the story of the founding and growth 
of this church. I recall only the outline of facts. The settlement contained 
thirty families. They were choice men of character, who came here under re- 
strictions which would exclude all other than resolute and moral men. They 
provided, before comirig, for the establishment of a "learned and orthodox 
ministry." November 18, 1 730, they organized a church with eight members, 
and Rev. Timothy Walker was installed its pastor. For fifty-two years as pastor 
he led the people, growing, prosperous, united, not only as their religious teacher 
but as their guide and defender in all civil matters. He moulded and fixed the 
character of the people to a large degree and his influence stiil abides. 

Rev. Israel Evans, who had been chaplain in the United States army for seven 
years, was installed July 1, 1 7S9. His pastorate was eight years. 

Rev. Asa McFarland was installed March 7, 1798, and dismissed March 23, 
1825, ai " ter twenty-seven years of service. These were years of prosperity, and, 
after arduous labors, the pastor left the church strong and united. 

Rev. Nathaniel Bouton was installed by the council which dismissed Dr. 
McFarland, March 23, 1825, and had been pastor five years at the close of the 
first century. 

To-day we only continue in record, as has been done in life, the story for fifty 
years more. Jn the preparations for this observance we are specially fortunate; 
fortunate in the events, the labors, the lives to be recalled. It is a very bright 


and glorious history. We are fortunate in the material preserved, which is 
accurate and at hand. There is, however, a single regret. It is that he who 
wrote the history of the first hundred years, and whose ministry continued 
thirty-seven years into this fifty, and whose life covered nearly all of it, is not 
here to declare the story of which he was so great a part, to recall the persons 
with whom he acted, and so many of the events winch will of necessity be 
omitted by any other. In looking forward to this day, it had been one of the 
hopes harbored that he. might be spared to this anniversary and gather for us 
the pleasant memories, the familiar names, the exact scenes of the past, and so 
fill out by life and by pen what he had begun. 

But he has gone. This anniversary of the church is also a memorial of him, 
and will remind us of how much we owe to his long and useful pastorate. He 
left the records of this chinch during his ministry complete, embracing much 
usually omitted, and kept or published the record of every event important to 
the church and community. If he must be missed to-day, he has made provis- 
ion for such a loss, and tha history folio ving for thirty-seven years s will be large- 
ly drawn from data he left, and which I shall freely use, giving often the words 
of his record of events. 

Fifty years ago this town contained 3700 inhabitants. It was the shire town 
of the county and capital of the state. A flourishing village was rapidly grow- 
ing. There were seven printing offices j three political newspapers published; 
and in the village, eight attorneys at law, and five physicians. The field for a 
pastor was large and the labor abundant, among a people distinguished for in- 
dustry and molality. There were three other churches, besides an occasional 
gathering of " Friends" — die First Baptist, organized in 1S1S, a Methodist or- 
ganized in 1S28, and the Unitarian, organized in 1S29. Dr. Bouton esti- 
mated that the whole number connected with all of thern was about one- 
fourth of the adult population, and one seventh of the inhabitants, while 
one third of the population attended services on the Sabbath and seven 
eights could be reckoned as church-going. The Old North, built in 1 75 1, 
was still the rallying point of the town, and the great congregation, averag- 
ing about a thousand, thronged it every Sabbath. They came from 
all directions, long distances, and many on foot. The young pastor had been 
here just long enough to get fairly at work, and to use the powers of church and 
parish efficiently. Large as was the church it was united, ready to sustain the 
efforts and plans of the pastor. Besides preaching on the Sabbath, the pastor 
appointed weekly lectures in different districts and instituted four Bible classes. 
He followed this plan for seven years, going on horseback to all sections of the 
town, visiting the people and holding the services. 

The church also was at work, and in 1831 there were connected with this 
church fourteen parish schools, taught in different districts, and containing 455 
scholars. Protracted meetings of three or four days' duration were also held, in 
which the pastor was assisted by neighboring pastors. Once or twice a year 
committees were appointed to visit from house to house, converse and pray 
with every family. The church frequently made appropriations of money to be 
spent in purchasing tracts to be distributed and books to be loaned to inquirers. 
These were wise methods. Here we find in this ancient church fifty years ago, 
the real working plan which we call modern ; the branch Sabbath School, can- 
vass services, reaching the masses, man by man, work both personal and united. 
The results then fully justified the wisdom of the way. Thus, at the opening of 
the fifty years which we recall, everything was favorable for the prosperity of the 
church. Rarely has there been a more promising outlook given to a people, or 
a broader field calling for, or receiving, better culture. The promise was not 
disappointed, and souls anxious for their salvation, or rejoicing in new found 
hope of pardon, were constantly to be found. 




: ' ; v-n the very threshold of the new century we reach the Pentecostal season 

the church. By unanimous invitation the General Association held its annual 

ting here in the fall of 1 83 1. The desire was intense on the part of the 

, h that the meeting should be one of great spiritual blessing. It was antic* 

• .!. not as a season of enjoyment or fellowship merely, not as a meeting 

I '-iness or for laborers from the state to report of the past and plan for the 

: ire, but as the coming of a real Pentecost. Hence, early in January preced- 

•, prayer began to be offered that God would prepare all hearts for His com- 

; with that meeting. It was united prayer. On the Sabbath, in the prayer 

meeting, at extra seasons for fasting and prayer, at the family altar and in hun- 

of closets no doubt, the importunate and believing prayers went up with 

the cry, "Lord prepare us and come Thou ! " While they spake the Lord heard. 

I he blessing came before the meeting of the Association. The roused church, 

. juiring and then pardoned sinners, declared that the windows of heaven were 

already open. 

The church voted, June 30th, " to appoint a committee of thirty to visit all 

members of the church residing in town for the purpose of promoting, 

through the Divine blessing, an increased interest and attention to our spiritual 

ems." When, September 6, the ministers and numerous Christians from 

all parts of the state, to the number of three hundred, assembled, they all seemed 

; loved by the same spirit in the one accord of prayer and expectancy, and soon 

the day was fully come. 

Says Dr. Bouton : "The first day the impression was highly salutary and 
hopeful ; on the second, deeper and more solemn ; on the third, tears abund- 
antly flowed; in the afternoon of Thursday, when the general meeting was ex- 
pected to close, the Lord's supper was administered to about S50 communi- 
cants, occupying every seat on the lower floor of the church and benches in the 
isles, while the galleries were crowded with non-communicants, for the most 
part standing, and with silent, but throbbing and tearful emotion, looking on the 
solemn scene, and listening to the affecting appeals which were made to them. 
Many afterward said that the scene was to them like the day of judgment. In the 
evening Rev. Joel Fisk, then of New Haven, Vt., preached from the text, John 
'■'■'■ 37, ' Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.' God evidently as- 
'-'• ted the preacher in pleading with sinners, and urging them to come then to 
Christ. The impression was too powerful to be any longer resisted. There 
began to be a spontaneous movement in the house at the close of the sermon, 
seeking the prayers of Christians, and when the pastor said, 'An opportunity is 
now given for those who desire prayers to come forward,' persons seated below 
and in the the gallery, moved, as by a spontaneous impulse, toward the broad 
aisle of the church, and filled the entire space from the pulpit to the front door. 
Oh, what a moment was that ! ' The glory of the Lord filled the house.' And 
ministers and Christians stood in joyful wonder at the sight. Few were the 
v>'ords spoken, but sobbing prayers were poured out to God for pardon, peace 
and salvation for those anxious souls. The meeting closed, and all, subdued by 
the power of the scene, retired to their homes, not to sleep, but to converse and 
praise and pray. Tidings of this wonderful event soon passed over town, and 
the religious interest was general I may say universal, for those who did not 
Participate in it as a work of the Spirit of God, still could not be indifferent. 
" a PPy, happy was the church during this gracious visitation ! To meet this 
intensely interesting state of things, lectures, meetings for prayer and conference 
a °d pastoral visiting, were multiplied in ail sections of the parish, brides the 
0r -easional services of neighboring ministers, the pastor was ' authorized to era- 
l L0 y an assistant for such time as he might deem necessary/ and Rev. J, S. 


Davis was employed. Rev. William (.'lark also preached several times. Morn- 
ing prayer- meetings were held through the fail season at the Town Hall, and a 
Sabbath morning prayer- meeting at the same place through the whole ensuing 
winter. The result was the audition of one hundred and one members to the 
church the next year." 


The first "• protracted meeting " held in this section, if not in the state, was at 
Dunbarton, and with happy results. At a meeting of the church, June 29, 1S32, 
the interest of the revival still continuing, it was voted, " To consider the expe- 
diency of holding a protracted meeting, and that the subject be taken up at the 
next church meeting for business." There was not entire unanimity as to the 
expediency when the matter came up, and instead of a protracted meeting it 
was agreed ' ; to appoint a committee to visit and converse upon the subject of 
personal religion with all connected with this parish, and to establish meetings 
to be conducted by brethren, once a fortnight, in the following school districts." 
Thirteen are named. Says the pastor : " These meetings were an essential aid. 
They supplied for a time a great demand through the town for religious services. 
This course of labor was continued nearly two years, but still something more 
was wanted. Consequently, at a meeting March 16, 1834, the following was sub- 
mitted to the church and unanimously adopted : 

" Resolved, That the church will hold a protracted meeting, to commence 01a 
Tuesday. 29th of April next; and will in the meantime earnestly implore the bless- 
ing of God on themselves and on the extraordinary means of grace that may then 
bemused for the conversion of sinners and the promotion of the Redeemer's king- 

April 10, the church observed a day of fasting and prayer, preparatory to the 
meeting ; also April 19th. The meeting continued four days, and was of course 
marked in results, fifty-five being that year added to the church. During the 
fall, meetings were held simultaneously in ten different places in the parish, so as 
to accommodate all the members, and brethren were designated, two and two, 
to attend them. " The meetings were opened with prayer for a revival ; the 
covenant of the church was read ; exhortation and prayer followed, with person- 
al conversation." A large proportion of those uniting with the church during 
this work were from the Bible classes, and three sevenths of the whole were at 
the time members of the Sabbath-School. These methods were continued till 
1840, and took the place largely of the Bible classes, which were suspended in 
1832. In subsequent years, sometimes with special means, and often with the 
ordinary means diligently used, large accessions were made; in 1834, fifty- 
five ; in 1836, fifty-three ; in 1S42, thirty-five, and in 1843, forty-five. Surely 
the opening years of this second century were years of plenty, marked by a 
working pastor, a working church, faith in God, and large blessing. 

1 have dwelt thus at length on these years and methods because they mark 
an epoch in our history, and in many things will never be repeated. The spirit, 
the prayer, the labor, the blessing of a like devotion may still be ours. There 
were other experiences in these ten years, and we now consider what Dr. Bout- 
on terms, 


These causes were wholly from without and aside from the ordinary loss by 
death and removal. Theysprang from the prosperity and growth of the to,en, 
the tone and habit of the people who settled in it, and the great spiritual 
harvest that had been gathered. The early settlers, by their stalwart piety, their 
uniform practice in the observance of the Lord's Day, made this a church-going 
community. The habit was never lost. It abides with us still. In the steady 



..'i of the town and then of the city, the 'demand for larger accommodations 

hib has been constantly made and met. 

!.•: worship 


In September, '832. the membership of this church was five hundred and 
-. ;entv-seven,--~ one hundred and sixty-six males, three hundred and sixty-one 

;: dies ; the congregation numbered from eight hundred to one thousand, and 
tied all the pews of the spacious edifice. The residents of the West Parish, 
as now called, numbering by actual count, January, 1833, one hundred and 
seventeen families and six hundred and seventy dive individuals, and living on 
jtn average nearly live miles from the meeting-house, many of them walking to 
ervices, began to ask, "May we not, ought we not. to seek greater conven- 
iences for ourselves and our children? Has not the time come for us to build 
.1 house unto the Lord?" The answer was deliberately reached after prayer 
and counsel, and a new religious society was founded, a house for worship built, 
in 1 eighty-eight members residing in that part of the town were dismissed and 
organized into a new church April 22, 1833. In their letter to the church, 
• iting their object and asking letters they say : ''.And now, brethren, as we 
ar v taking this last step, in becoming set off from you with whom we have so 
long and so happily walked in company to the house of God, you may con- 
ceive, but we cannot describe, the emotions of our hearts. Here we all can 
trulv say our best friends and kindred dwell ; we have loved our brethren and 
sisters ; we have loved our pastor ; and we cannot but let our eye linger on this 
ancient temple, where some of us were dedicated in paternal arms and in 
paternal faith to God, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost ; where we have 
voluntarily taken the vows of God upon us, and where we have long been 
edified and built up in the most holy faith." After the reading of this request 
special prayer was offered, ''the vote, taken by the church rising, many eyes 
flowing with tears, was found to be unanimous." 

1 he eld house was soon full again, and the church membership larger than 
before, viz., five hundred and thirty-nine. The village growing toward the 
south, the brethren there located, in 1836, erected a church edifice, and with 
similar expressions of affection, asked to be dismissed and organized into a 
new church. These brethren sent the following letter to the church : 

Co the First Congregational Church in Concord: 

Dear Pastor and Brethren : As we have undertaken to erect a new house of wor- 
ship, and as the time has nearly arrived when it may be thought best to organize a 
new church, we wish to present to you our motives for a measure so important, and 
to ask your counsel and your prayers and your cordial approbation and concur- 
rence. We hope you will do us the justice to believe that we do not desire to 
change our relation to you because we are dissatisfied with it, or because we expect 
or hope to promote our convenience or our personal interest or happiness. We as- 
sure you that the proposed separation, in itself considered, is painful to us. We 
leave our home, which has become dear to us as the place where most of us received 
religious instructions and impressions which have resulted in the hopes we entertain 
ol a common interest with you in the love and favor of our common Lord and Re- 
deemer; and some of us have enjoyed the high privileges of Christian fellowship 
and communion with you for twenty years; and all of us have enjoyed with you 
precious seasons of prayer and praise and worship, and of the gracious iufhienees of 
the Holy Spirit, which we shall always remember, and the remembrance of which, 
we trust, will preserve the affectionate regards which we have so long entertained 
''-•r you. But we have felt constrained by a sense of duty to rake this step. We 
have been greatly favored as a church and people. The place where we worship 
has become too strait for us. Very soon after our friends <>f the West parish left us. 
their places were supplied by those who had come among us and had been waiting 
J '"i the privilege. Since that time additions have been made to the population of 
"ar village suiticient to constitute an entire congregation; and most of these, c a» r'ar 
: '-- they feel any interest, would prefer to worship with us. But they cannot, find 
room here, and they seek for places where they can obtain admission. 01 the) 


remain at home ami neglect religious worship. Our parish is large and our congre- 
gation possesses wealth sufticieni to support two pastors without being hardened. 
The JLord has also added niany to our church, so th'jtt) its members are now more 
numerous than they were, before tin: West church was founded, ami may we not say 
that w<> are probably more numerous than we should have been if the West church 
bad not been formed. Be this as it may ; none will doubt that both chinches are 
more numerous than ibis alone would have been. We love to consider this church 
as our common parent., and in this way she is setting up her children around her. 

Tiie field of labor for this church is already very great and is constantly increas- 
ing. But when we look around us upon our new neighbors, what shall we say to 
them? We cannot invite them to join us, for we. have no place for them. Wc have 
comfortable places here; we have good pews, have the means of conveyance, are 
drawn here by the force of habit, and by many endearing recollections and associ- 
ations. But, dear brethren, can wo justify ourselves in sitting here while hundreds 
of our neighbors can only stand without and look in upon us. and then turn away 
and wander like sheep without a shepherd? We think you will not ask it. We 
trust you will give us your full and cheerful concurrence — that you will make it a 
subject of praise and gratitude to God that we have such a field of usefulness open- 
ed for us, and that you will cordial!} unite with us by your prayers and sympathies 
and fraternal cooperation. And now, permit us to urge our request that you will 
unite with us in seeking the blessing ot ! God and the guidance of his good Provi- 
dence, that we may be prepared for the separation which Ave think may and should 
soon take place, and that the glory of God and the best interests of ourselves and 
others may be promoted by this measure. In behalf of the proprietors of the new- 
house: Samuel Fletcher, 

Asaph Evans, 
George Hutcihxs, 
Samuel Evans, 
George Kent, ' 
Amos Wood, 
November 4, 1836. X. G. Ueham, 

The letter sent November 15, asking to be dismissed, is in the same tone : 

To the First Congregational Church in Concord. Greeting: 

Jleverend and Beloved : We, the undersigned, members of this church, believing 
that the providence of God and the promotion of true religion require the establish- 
ment of another Congregational church in this town, severally request of you a 
letter of recommendation and dismission, for the purpose of being constituted a 
church in connection with the new house of worship just erected in this village. 

Brethren beloved, though we contemplate a separation, we trust we shall still be 
joined in heart, and that the only strife between us will be to see which shall most 
faithfully serve the blaster whom we profess to follow. We ask your aid, your sym- 
pathies and your prayers, that the enterprise in which we have engaged shall redound 
to the good of Zion among us, and to the glory of our God and" Savior. And also 
ask your advice and cooperation to assist us in becoming, in due time, regularly and 
ecclesiastically organized. Wishing you grace, mercy and peace. 

This letter was signed by fifty-four members. At the meeting of the church 
December 4. 1836, "Voted, That the request of the above named brethren and 
sisters be granted ; and they are hereby cordially recommended as in good and 
regular standing with us, for the purpose of being organized into a new church ; 
and when they shall become so organized their particular relation to this church 
shall be dissolved." 

Thirteen others soon joined in the same request, and so sixty-seven were dis- 
missed to form the South Church. 

This act, like that in giving for the West church, cost a struggle in many 
hearts. The mother church sent out the colony as the mother lets go her child, 
and, declaring '"'That the statement which our brethren in the south section of 
the village have made of their motives and designs in erecting another house or 
worship, merits our cordial approbation, and that we will unite our prayers with 
theirs in seeking the divine direction and blessing on their future movements," 
she gave 'her hearty benediction, a benediction which has not been recalled for 
one moment from that day to this. 



The South Church was organized February i, 1837. 

'{ dIs was not all. In 1S42 a new house was built, and the East Congcegation- 
aj Church was organized March 30, 1S42, by forty-four members dismissed for 
il it purpose. At each division the common fund in the church treasury was 
divided and one third part given to the departing church, and a similar division 
was made of the Sabbath-School library. 

Among those who went out to form these churches, some of our most devoted 
and useful members were given to each one. Never was there a more harmoni- 
ous and prosperous church than this in 1832, and all the separations never 
interrupted for a moment the harmony, though each stirred deeply the hearts of 
those who went and those who remained. The members were dismissed and 
the churches organized, prompted by love to Christ and His cause, and this 
mother church gave to the three new churches, formed in a period of less than 
ten years, one hundred and ninety-nine of her members. Surely we may 
repeat, in the recall, the words of the pastor, that " the church history of New 
England does not furnish a parallel to this experience " of three churches going 
out from a single church within ten years without so much as a ripple of dis- 
coid. I believe the reason of this harmony is found mainly in the quickened 
spiritual condition of the church, and the deep devotion of the members to 
Christ, so that His kingdom was first in their thoughts and acts. Besides these 
losses a large number was dismissed to other evangelical churches ; three 
hundred and thirty in forty-two years of Dr. Bouton's pastorate. 

By the formation of churches of different denominations, and the division of 
this, there began to be realized the change that had been coming over the com- 
munity for the last few years, as from one great congregation on the Sabbath, 
gathered from all parts of town, there were now different congregations, and the 
people were no longer one assembly in the most essential and delightful service 
of worship. For nearly one hundred years the people met together weekly, 
saw each other, kept the mutual acquaintance which held in one all sections of 
the town. In those days there were many who could call by name ail the 
worshippers of the town. The moderator at the town- meeting then could call 
the name of every voter. There passed away, in a few years, a type o( things 
not to be repeated, and a personal influence in the whole town, social, political 
and religious, which will never return. Not only the men and women who 
filled those places for the whole town have passed away, but the places them- 
selves have gone. 

There was also a change from the time when the growth of the town was, 
almost of necessity, the growth of the one church in it. Then the church 
increased with the increase of population. Now had come a time when the 
growth of the town signified the growth of different churches, and the increase 
in any section of the town meant increase of the church in that section. All 
this had, of course, affected the strength and relations of this church. Giving 
generously and repeatedly of her best gifts, narrowed in territorial limits, other 
denominations sharing the work, and the old and the new churches looking for 
growth, this mother church missed the absent, and felt that it had really started 
on a new experience. At this time the house of worship, which for ninety-one 
yean had been occupied, needed extensive repairs. After deliberation it was 
decided to build a new house on another spot. This spot which we now occupy 
was selected, and the corner-stone was laid and the frame erected July 4, 1842. 


The feeling with which the people ieft the dear old meeting-house in which 
they had so long worshipped, and around which gathered so many memories of 
the departed and associations with the living, cannot be fully realized by us. 
Those deep feelings demanded some expression. Says Dr. Bouton ; "To each 



of the four Congregational churches it was the ancient family mansion, the 
home where we were born, instructed, and a thousand times been made happy. 
We could not finally leave its sacred altars without laying anew our vows upon 
them, nor depart from it? long trodden thresholds without sprinkling them with 
our tears." Accordingly at a meeting of the church, ist September, 1842, it was 
agreed and voted that previously to leaving our ancient house of worship we 
will observe special religious services in it, and that a committee be appointed 
to make arrangements for such sei vices. The committee repotted, 6th October, 
"That in connection with Rev. Mr. Tenney of the West Church, Rev. Mr. 
Naves of the South Church,, Rev. Mr. Morgan, stated supply of the East 
Church, they had arranged to have a series of union religious services of two 
days, in each of said churches, commencing about the 18th inst, and closing 
with a general meeting oi the four churches in this house, at which the pastor 
would give a history of the churches, and the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper 
be administered." Says our record: "Religious services were attended at the 
Old North Church on Thursday and Friday, 27th and 28th of October. On 
Friday the pastor delivered a discourse on the history of the church, la the 
afternoon about five hundred and fifty communicants of the four sister churches 
sat down at the table of the Lord. It was a season of tender and affecting 
interest. Many wept at the thought of separation from the place where they 
and their fathers had worshipped. The hearts of Christians were drawn into 
closer union, and solemn pledges of fidelity in the cause of Christ were given 
to each other. The scene will not be forgotten in the present generation." 

The tender feelings awakened by this service and the real friendship of all 
those hearts, though they worshipped in four congregations, suggested that a 
meeting of like character be held in the New North Church the next year. This 
was not enough, and the annual gathering has been continued to the present 
time. At the formation of the church in Fisherville, April 9, 1850 (which 
church is a grandchild of this, having been formed, in part from the members of 
the West Parish), that church was invited to join in these gatherings. The 
meetings have been held with the several churches in succession, and have always 
been seasons of tender memories and heartfelt union. In the morning, essays 
or discussions on practical subjects occupy the time. A collation gives oppor- 
tunity for social reunion, and after a sermon, each meeting closes with our 
sitting together at the Lord's Supper, and singing as we part, 

4i Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love.'" 

At the twenty-fifth annual meeting held with this church in 1867, it was 
voted to take as the name of this union, " The Concord Congregational Church 
Union." This, our gathering to-day, is also the thirty-eighth of these annual 

The next few years are marked by no events of unusal interest. The pastor 
and the church worked on steadily. Their labors were blessed, and some years 
many were gathered into the church. There were many discouragements in 
the contrast with other days, but they never faltered. There were also several 
cases of discipline, some specially trying to the church. Many were from the 
change coming over the people upon the question of temperance. This leads 
me to notice 



Temperancr. The pastor, finding it a custom at his settlement to use spirit- 
uous liquors, early raised his voice against the use and sale of ardent spirit. 



■ is record of discipline of members from intemperance as early as 1S2S. 
having before taken decided stand that intemperance was a sin. 
>ber 2, 1829, the following resolution was unanimously adopted : 

» Considering th • evils resulting to society at large, and especially to the church 
■ ( hrist. iv<m\ the use of intoxicating .iquors: therefore, 

« jlesolvi'd. That we will as individuals and as a church exert our influence in all 

la ways to discourage and prevent the use of the same." It is added in the 

•' In order to carry the above resolution into effect in part, twenty poisons 

11 ciiately subscribed to pay a certain sum annually to procure and diffuse useful 

mat'ion on the subject of temperance. 5 ' This money was expended in buying 

and tracts upon The ".Nature and Effects of Acohol, Physical and Moral Evils 

of Intemperance, Hum a Poison. 

The pastor soon presented to the church, in a sermon, the statistics of the use 
and sale of liquors in the town, greatly surprising them by the enormous figures ; 
and often during his whole ministry preached upon the subject. Resolutions 
were adopted June i, 1832, precluding from admission to the church all persons 
who manufacture, sell, or use ardent spirit, except for purely medicinal purposes. 
The cases of church discipline for intemperance were less than we could expect 
when we remember the hold of the evil by fashion and habit on the whole 
people, and give abundant proof of the wisdom, decision and charity of the 
pastor. The first public measures for a temperance society in Concord were 
; ken on Fast day, April 1, 1830, at a meeting in the Old North Church. 

Unfermented wine was used at the Lord's Supper in 1836. In 1S50 the 
temperance pledge of total abstinence bore the names of four hundred and 
twelve members of this congregation. All along the years since, this church 
has stood thru, and declared plainly by preaching and resolutions rrs unabated 
hatred of intemperance. 


It bore its part in the great struggle against slavery. Its pastor was not a 
partisan nor his preaching political or for any merely party ends. Pastor and 
church looked irom the moral standpoint, and declared their convictions. 
Never radical in the extreme, the church very early gave its decision calmly and 
decidedly against the system. A few left it because they thought it too slow, 
and a few because it was too fast, but it has been disturbed less than most 
churches by either the gradual or sudden changes of sentiment in the commu- 
nity. Deeply grounded in the faith of the Gospel, and keeping well the unity of 
its spirit, it has never inclined to hasty changes, and has taken up all the great 
questions of moral reform calmly, intelligently, and without exception put its tes- 
timony on the side of right, and so of ultimate triumph. Its pastor;, have always 
been loyal to the land, and the great body of the church has stood by the pas- 
tor. If on some of the moral reforms individuals have not always agreed with 
him, they have usually stood manfully tor full freedom of opinion and discussion, 
and held none the less firmly to the great fundamentals that abide in our Chris- 
tian faith, and make us tolerant without compromise, and still united in peace- 
able living. 


With the. other churches in our city, of the different denominations, this an- 
cient chitrch has been, and still is at peace. Instead of this one, theie are in 
our city nineteen different churches. We have not only lived at peace with our 
brethren, but there has always been a remarkable degree of consideration and 
fellowship marking the relations of all these different churches. We unite heart- 
ily in the great works of combined Christian labor, and our city is a model ex- 
ample of Christian fellowship. This church, not only to her children, but to 

2 02 


others as well, has constantly extended her hand to aid in every noble work, and 
has received also from all these different households of faith a similar confidence 
and aid. We have been loyal to our convictions, tolerant in our differences, 
united in our labors of love, and more anxious to see the good prosper than to 
watch each other. So lias this church well remembered, both for itself and as 
related to others, the injunction, " Live in peace," and that other also, "Striv- 
ing together for the faith of the Gospel." 

Not only upon this community has this church exerted an influence, but it has 
borne its share of labor and influence in the state. It has believed in and prac- 
ticed the fellowship of the churches. From its location, its pastors and its effi- 
cient membership have had much to do with the ecclesiastical gatherings and 
benevolent societies of the state and land. During the ministry of Dr. Bouton the 
church was invited to one hundred and fifty-nine councils. During the present pas- 
torate it has been invited to forty-three. Hardly a council was held in all this 
part of the state for many years in which this church was not represented. It 
has probably been represented in more ecclesiastical councils than any other 
church in the state. In the state gatherings, Associations, Conventions, Benev- 
olent Societies of our denomination, it has borne a part almost without excep- 
tion. It.-, pastor has been a Trustee of the different state societies nearly all the 
time from their organization. It has entertained the General Association ten 
times. Li 1843 it invited the American Board to hold its annual meeting here, 
though the meeting was not so held. Beyond the state, in the benevolent or- 
ganizations, educational institutions, it has constantly shared in the work and 
aided by contributions*. 


It was the custom of Dr. Bouton to preach an anniversary sermon on the 
Sabbath nearest the date of his settlement, and for the forty-two years he never 
missed doing so. The hymn which was sung at his ordination, 

" Father ! how wide thy glory shines, 
How high thy wonders rise ! " 

was sung at every anniversary. 1 ne Twenty-Fifth Anniversary the pastor re- 
viewed the history of the church for twenty-five years, speaking of the ministry, 
the church, the religious society, and the town. Flis text was Acts xxvi, 22, 
'•'Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this day." The 
theme, " Permanence amid Changes." The discourse was published. 

The Fortieth Anniversary was observed on Thursday, March 23, 1S65. Invi- 
tations were issued and arrangements made by a committee of the church, and 
the services were very fully attended. The exercises were : Invocation and Read- 
ing of the Scripture^, Rev. Asa P. Tenney of the West Church ; Original Hymn, 
Miss Edna Dean Proctor; Prayer, Rev. Henry E. Parker of the South Church; 
Commemorative Discourse, Rev. Nathaniel Bouton, d. p., Pastor ; Ordination 
Hymn ; Prayer, Rev. William R. Jewett of Fisherville ; Hymn, read by Rev. E. 
O. Jameson of the East Church. The discourse from the texts, Deut. ii, 7, 
" These forty years the Lord thy God has been with thee, thou hast lacked noth- 
ing," and, 1 Cor. i, 4, " I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of 
God is given you by Jesus Christ," was a history of the church for the forty 
years. That discourse was published, and furnishes much of the material for 
our review to-day. At seven o'clock in the evening, a reception was held in the 
City Hall, at which the congregation, and many friends o( the pastor, gathered 
to express their congratulations. Representatives of different churches in the 
city, and pastors from abroad expressed their joy in the occasion, and uttered 
the gratitude of many hearts in the recall of the long and useful ministry. A 
generous testimonial of esteem and affection from his people and friends was 


presented to Dr. Bouton, amounting to $1,356. Other personal gifts were pre- 
sented to Dr. and Mrs. Bouton, also a munificent gift from his children, the 
whole amounting to about S3, 000. The observance of these anniversaries con- 
tinued after the dismission 01 Dr. Bouton, he having been invited by the pastor 
iu continue the custom of an anniversary sermon, which he did, preaching near- 
ly every year. 

On the Fiftieth Anniversary a reception was given Dr. n^d Mrs. Bouton by 
the church. Clergymen of the city were invited, and the Chapel was filled with 
friends glad to express their affection for one who had so long lived and preach- 
ed the Gospel of Christ among them. Addresses wore mad', by the pastor, by 
Rev. E. E. Cummings, n. d., Rev. E. Adams, d. d., Rt. Rev. W. VV. Niles, 
Rev. J. F. Lovering, Dea. McFarland and Hon. J. B. Walker. Dr. Bouton, re- 
plied, expressing his gratitude and affection to the church and friends, and say- 
ing that of the three hundred and sixty members of the church at the time of 
his settlement, no male member was living, and of the female, only five. Dr. 
Bouton preached the Sabbath before from 2 Peter, i, 13 and 14. Theme, "An 
aged man's view of death." 


Dr. Bouton has expressed the feelings and motives which led to his resigna- 
tion ot the pastorate : " Not because 1 was conscious of any failure of my phys- 
ical or mental powers, or that the people desired it; but the changes had been 
so great in the church and society and in the town at large, that it was evident 
that my relations to the whole were affected and modified thereby. I had been 
the minister of the whole people; now not less than sixteen new religious soci- 
et: : were established. Those who called and settled me have nearly all gone. 
A new generation was on the stage, between whom and myself was a wide space 
in age. My judgment was that it would be better for the church and society, 
better for their growth and prosperity, to have a new administration ; in short, a 
younger man, who would be more in accord and sympathy with the age and 
generation around him than I could be. * * * * With clear judgment as 
to my duty and the welfare of the church, I gave notice on the last Sabbath in 
October, 1866, just forty-two years after I preached my first sermon as a candi- 
date, that I would resign in March following, the anniversary of my ordination." 

He accordingly soon after wrote a letter to the Society, stating the reasons for 
his resignation, which he wished them to accept. To the Church, in the letter 
giving his reasons, he said : " I beg to assure you that in these steps toward a 
dissolution of the relation which I have so happily sustained these forty-two 
years — steps which, though painful, yet my judgment fully approves — my regard 
for your welfare is unabated, and, I trust, will be increasing. Continuing, as I 
hope to do, to reside among you, I shall deem it my duty and privilege to co- 
operate with you in measures to sustain and advance the cause of our Lord and 

The change to the church at the resignation of Dr. Bouton was very great. 
Most of the church and congregation had known no other pastor ; many of 
them had grown up under this one ministry, and the few who remembered when 
it began were well along in years. These all must feci the change to another 
voice, another presence in the pulpit, the social services, the homes, and to 
think of any other as pastor. The council called to ratify this change, dismiss 
this father and install a new minister, was the first called by this church for 
more than forty-two years. It is worthy of record that this church in all its 
history, has never called a council to advise in or settle any cases of difficulty. 
It has called councils only for the ecclesiastical sanction of its acts in settling 
and dismissing its pastors, and, for this, in one hundred and fifty years since 
its organization, it has called but four. The church has not been without a 

2 4 


pastor for an hour since March 7, 1 79S. The Council which dismissed Dr. 
McFarland ordained and installed Dr. Bouton, and the council that dismissed 
Dr. Bouton installed Rev. F. D. Aver, the present pastor. 

How remarkable is our history here ! What a contrast this to the usage of 
the present This church lias had but five pastors in all. Four pastorates 
covered one hundred and thirty-seven years of irs history, and these four pastors 
died here, and were laid away by tender hands and bleeding hearts among our 
absent Hoe!;. Their whole mini-aerial service was here except in the case of 
Rev. Israel Evans, who was Chaplain in the U. S. A. for seven years. This 
exceptional record bears a strong testimony of the character both of the minis- 
ters and the church, and shows that they were well suited to each other. It also 
suggests the question of long pastorates. The great elements of a pastor's 
power grow with years. There are elements that come only by growth into a 
community. Scarcely anything steadfast in the world, anything worth the 
handing down, but takes time to grow. That knowledge of self and people, 
of experiences and thoughts* of habits and struggles, which comes by long 
acquaintance is needed by the pastor most of all, and that church is favored 
above most which can enjoy for a generation the instruction and example of a 
truly godly pastor, and feel all the influence, private and public, of the teaching 
and holy living of a good minister. Such has been the repeated privilege of 
this people. 

Atter the resignation of Dr. Bouton, the committee of the church invited 
several clergymen to supply the pulpit. At a meeting of the Church, June 24, 
1867, it was voted to invite Rev. Franklin D. Ayer to become the pastor and 
teacher of this church. The Society united in the call, which was accepted by 
Rev. F. D. Ayer, who was, by the same council that dismissed Dr. llouton, 
installed pastor September 12. 1867. 

The Church, so long used to the ways of the venerable pastor, welcomed the 
new one, and have labored unitedly with him. The former pastor continued to 
labor with the church in prayer and effort, and aided the young pastor, welcom- 
ing him as though he were his son and giving him respect as though he were 
his equal. Without marked experiences or events in the history of the last 
years, the Church has gone on its way prosperously. Seasons of revival have 
come and though they have been less frequent and fruitful than we wished, they 
have left some delightful memories, and brought into the active service for 
Christ many of those who are our strength to-day. In 1872, twenty-five men 
were added to the Church, most of them upon confession of faith ; in 1S75 

There have been added to the Church during the present pastorate one 
hundred and furty-four ; forty-two have been dismissed, and sixty-two have died. 
The whole number uniting with, the Church in the one hundred and fifty years, 
fifteen hundred and seventy-one. There have united in the last fifty years seven 
hundred and seventy-eight, and dismissed five hundred and twenty-seven, 
leaving our present membership three hundred and one. 

The burning of the house of worship, June 29, 1873, interrupted somewhat 
our religious work, and the rebuilding taxed our resources, but through it all we 
went on unitedly, calmly, and with increase of prosperity. The last thirteen 
years this church and society have expended for parsonage, repairing the church 
and chapel, and rebuilding, about $60,000. 

During all these years the Church has been blessed with many noble Chris- 
tian men and women. They have aided the pastors in the various ofhees they 
have filled and by which they have cooperated with them, and been marked 
examples of Christian devotion among this people. There was a very large and 
remarkable list vi such men and women fifty years ago. There were many of 
superior natural endowments, and who, in this community, occupied places and 


met opportunities which will not return. It is to their lasting honor that they 
i ndered service long, abundant, and cheerful, and to the glory of God still th it 
[hev v/ere found faithful in their generation. I should gladly mention by name 
many of these could I do it with the personal knowledge and just discernment 
which would have marked their recall had he who was their pastor lived to do it. 
To you older ones man)' of those names now come back. The names that 
■ : ; ;id un the roll of church and society to-day repeat in large degree the names 
©f those whose good deeds stand thick along the records, and whose examples 
ere still an inspiration to us who are the inheritors of the still unrolling answer 
to their prayers. What an assembly we recall, of those at whose entrance into 
the higher life this Church both rejoiced and wept. How large thai band of 
streling men who for a long time stood together, honored when most of you were 
young, giving by their devotion, their decision, their uprightness and fidelity 
great strength to the Church. Resides these, not less in number, not below in 
devotion or fidelity, there labored a remarkable group of capable and untiring 
women, beloved of all and remembered as ministering angels by those who 
have known sickness or poverty. Some of those who have recently gone from 
us whom we thought of as venerable, judicious rather than old. filing up life 
with usefulness to the last have shown us of these times, the value of a noble 
life. At the death of Dr. Ronton only one of those who united with the Church 
before his coming here, survived, and she has since departed. The shepherd 
saw all the flock folded before he went in. 

The Deacons of the Church should be especially recalled. Of those who were 
in the office fifty years ago none remain. In the gifts to form the other churches 
we gave four deacons, all worthy men, true and of good report. To the West 
Church we gave Dea. Abial Rolfe, who had been a deacon here for nineteen 
years, and ''no brother was held in higher esteem, more pure-minded, sincere, 
upright and spiritual than he." Dea. Ira Rowell also, who had filled the office 
but four years, went out bearing the confidence and love of the church. He 
served the West Church faithfully and long, and these last years, at our annual 
gathering of the churches, he was one of the few of the fathers left. As a 
sheaf fully ripe for the harvest, he died in 1876, at the age of seventy-nine 

To the South Church we gave Dea. Samuel Fletcher, a man of sterling worth, 
intelligent, decided, sound of judgment. His words were few, his spirit devout, 
his life useful. He served this church in the office twelve years. 

Dea. Nathaniel Andrews went to continue his life of prayer and labor with 
the East Church, after rendering the duties of the office here for twenty-four 

Dea. James Moulton, elected to the office July $, 1829, remained in it and 
strengthened the Church till his death, October 31, 1S64. For thirty-five years, 
longer than any other, he performed here the work of a good deacon. Con- 
scientious, thoroughly honest at heart and in life, loyal to the opinions intelli- 
gently held, he was always willing to serve the church ; faithful but never for- 
ward, he was always a safe counselor and ready helper to the pastor. He died 
leaving here the memory of the just. 

Dea. Samuel Morrill, elected March 3, 1S37, also remained in office till his 
dv.ath, September 7, 1858. Says the record of him: "He was venerable in 
person, calm in temper, genial, hopeful and ever confiding in his precious 
Savior." He will not be forgotten till all of you who knew his worth are gone, 
lhese two last named are still often spoken of together. They are remembered 
pot merely because there are here those who are living witnesses of their fidelity 
i'a the households, but because the results of their devotion, ardor, integrity and 
example are still with us, and the Church holds among her treasured memories 
the brightness of their lives. 


Dea. Ezra Ballard was elected March 3, . 1S37, and resigned after a short but 
faithful sendee, in 1S42. 

Dea. Abram B. Kelley was elected December 29, 1S42, but removing from 
town, he resigned in 1844. 

Dea. Benjamin Farnum was elected August $t, 1844. He held the office 
for a generation, thirty-two years, doing willingly and faithfully much service 
for- the church. He resigned in 1876, and is the only one now living whose 
term of service began prior to 1850. 

Dea. Charles F. Stewart was elected Nov. 4, 1857. He has but recently gone 
from us, and the fidelity and attention with which he ministered to the Church, 
watching all its interests and giving of effort often beyond his strength, is 
fresh in our minds. Owing to failing strength, he resigned in 1S79, and in a 
few months more finished all his earthly toil. 

The present deacons are : 

Dea. John Ballard, elected December 29, 1S64. 

Dea. Edward A. Moultori, elected December 3r, 1S75. 

Dea. Andrew L. Smith., eieeted December 31, 1875. 

Dea. Robert G. Morrison, elected January 3, 1879. 


All these yeais the Church has steadily sustained its weekly prayer-meeting. 
For many years the meeting was held Saturday evening in a room in the old 
Bank Building, now owned by the Historical Society. The Chapel was erected 
in 1858, and the time of the meeting changed to Friday evening in 1868. The 
first Sabbath evening of each month a missionary concert is held, and the 
second a Sabbath-Sehool concert. The young men and women have gone out 
from tins church and city to the larger cities and to the West, and thus we are 
living in ali parts of our land. Many have pursued courses of education. In 
his centennial discourse Dr. Bouton mentions twenty-six who had then gradu- 
ated from college, and, as until a few years before, this was the only church in 
town they were probably most of them members of this congregation. Since 
that time, twenty-six from this Congregation have entered college. 


The contributions to the various objects of benevolence have been gathered 
every year, and there has been a constant outflow of our gifts into the different 
channels of usefulness. The gifts, though never very large, have, by their regu- 
larity, amounted to a goodly sum. The list of our benevolent causes has never 
been small, for, besides the local, we have annually given to from six to twelve 
different objects. In 1830, the list and amounts were as follows : Foreign Mis- 
sions, 594.45; Domestic Missions, $94; Bible Society, S1S3; Tract Society, 
£36; Education Society, 5 14; Colonization Society, £4.54; Sunday-Schools, 
$48 ; Seamen's Friend Society, $15 ; other, $40 ; total, £529.99. In 1S50 eight 
objects were on the list, and the amount was 5338.18, which was less than the 
amount given for several years before, and any year later. 

At the present our list embraces all the objects supported by the Congrega- 
tional Churches. To some we give every year, to others alternate years. We 
still give broadly for the Home and the Foreign Fields. Our collections last 
year were $1,189.14. Our contributions during the years of our church build- 
ing, and while we raised $40,000 for thatpurpose, were hardly diminished, and 
while doing for ourselves we did not the less for others. In the fifty years we 
have given to benevolent causes, from 1830 to 1867, $21,000, from 18(57 to 
18S0, 517,063 ; total, $$$,063. Of this amount, 59,000 to the American Board, 
and .$8,000 to Home Missions. 




for ilearly all the first century the ministers of this church and town were sup - 
orted by a tax on all the ratable property, and inhabitants of the town. The 

■ &{ the State authorizing the formation of societies, with corporate powers, 
a . passed in 1S19. At the resignation of Dr. McFarland, the First Congrega- 
: Society in Concord was formed, and a constitution adopted July 29, r.824. 
Searly all the descendants of the original settlers at once joined the Society, as 
- 1 many others, and the first year there were two hundred and twenty-three 
taxable members. The tax was assessed upon all persons according to the list 
ei the town assessors and collected by the fee for collection being set up at auc- 
H m, and struck off to die Invest bidder. Then and till 1842 they required a 
bond of the collector. In 1S25 the' salary was fixed at S750, and raised by a tax 
rjfone half of one per cent, on the valuation of the polls and estate of the mem- 
bers. The highest tax that year was paid by Stephen Ambrose — $23,17. Four 
others paid each, as the next highest, Si 2.50. In 1840 there were two hundred 
and two taxable members, and in the division oi the parsonage fund two hun- 
dred and ninety-eight of the voters classed themselves with this Society. Mark- 
ed changes were produced in this Society, as in the Church, when die other 
societies were formed in connection with the three churches colonized and with 
those of other denominations started. 

According to the Act of Legislature passed December 2$, 1842, the Society 
was organized ; and all means for the support of public worship were to be rais- 
ed by subscription. In 1850, there were ninety-four subscribers for the support 
of the ministry. The largest sum subscribed by an individual was $35. The 
cash value of tire property owned by them, according to the town list, was ^322,- 
000. Of the original members of the Society as organized in 1825, the last 
survivor, Ivory Hall, died last Monday and was buried yesterday, There are 
now on our list those representing thirty-eight of the subscribers of 1S50. 

This Society, during all the early and later changes, has held on its way, 
"quartered but not to rent, depressed but not disheartened, it has risen with re- 
cuperative energy under every discouragement." It has always been the aid and 
supporter of the Church, having a Standing Committee to advise with a like 
committee from the Church, and never has any jealousy or disagreement brought 
division between them. Many members of the Church have been members of 
the Scociety, and many not members of the Church have, in the Society aided 
as cheerfully, counseled and planned as heartily, giving as liberally as have 
members of the Church. The Church has had a good Society, and bears testi- 
mony to the heartiness and constancy of the Society in forwarding all its inter- 
ests. Like the Church, the Society has been remarkably fortunate in the many 
strong men who have been identified with it ; men of means, sagacity, upright- 
ness and promptness. For year.-, there was a band of men at this part of 
the town and then city, respected by all for their ability, judgment and integrity. 
Hiey were interested in the civil and moral religious interests o( the whole peo- 
ple, and, living side by side, united by common sympathies, agreement of pur- 
pose, and membership in the same Saciety, they were a strong band standing by 
the Church. They were unlike each other, but their differences in character 
gave them a united strength, for they understood each other and had the wis- 
dom to put the best man for any place in that place, and each where he was 
placed did his best. These men were strong counselors to the pastor, and they 
'lid much to bear the Church peacefully through the many changes as they 

'lhe Society has accepted and acted upon the plan of paying as it goes, and 
been shy of debts. It has been afraid of them before they were contracted. 
J he salary of the minister has been paid promptly by the Treasurer of the Soci- 


ety. The bills for incidental expenses have been quickly met, and in church- 
building or repairs there have been no debts incurred. It has kept itself fre - « f 
debts all along the years, dedicated its houses of worship paid for, and to-day 
owes not a dollar. It owns a pleasant and convenient parsonage. This Soci< •;> 
has expended in the fifty years not less than $So,ooo for support of worship, and, 
for houses of worship, repairs and parsonage, about $60,000 the past thirteen 
years, and more than S 70,000 in the fifty. 

ladies' societies. 

The ladies have done their full share in ministering to the prosperity of 
tiie Church, and in works of mercy and benefieence. There has been, 
for two generations at least, organized labor for the needy at home and 
abroad. The Female Charitable Society had its birth here. It was founded in 
1812 at the suggestion of Mis. McFarland, and before 1830 had assisted in the 
aggregate six hundred and eighty families, and expended 8878. 88. It was, then, 
fairly at work fifty years ago, and lias been gaming ever since, adding each year 
another chapter to its labor of love. It has been for man}- years a union soci- 
ety, one of the institutions uniting heartily in its work all parts of the city. 

The New Hampshire Cent Society was also started here in 1805 by Mrs. Mc- 
Farland, a woman whose wisdom to plan and heart to do seems not the less as 
the years go by. It has always been dear to the ladies of this Church, who have 
annually contributed to its treasmy. It has raised in the state $98,650.37, and 
now gives annually to die rnissionnry work about 82,500. 

The Sewing Circle has had its place here. What New England church has 
not had its sewing circle? As those other societies became more extended 
there was started a Society for parish work. It also raised money to aid in build- 
ing the Chapel and furnishing this house at an expense of Sr.yoo, and, like a 
good corporation, had money left in the treasury. Each year still adds to the 
strength o( its aid and usefulness. "Barrels have annually been prepared and 
sent to the Home Missionary Society, and more recently also to the Freedmen. 

The hislorv we have to-day recalled is, I think, a good sample of that of a 
New England Congregational Church in a growing community for the fifty years 
past. It is therefore a representative history, and not for ourselves alone. It is 
a testimonv to the stability, the energy, the adaptation of both otir faith and our 
polity. I have dwelt mainly on thee earlier years, not as forgetting that the later 
are just as much a part o( the fifty as are the earlier, but because we are all fa- 
miliar with the events in which we have a part and may not be the best histo- 
rians of our own deeds. I am quite certain that much said of the former days, 
with only a change of names and allusions, would be true of the children, both 
by blood and by adoption, of the fathers and mothesr who lived and died here. 

The succession continues. We are making history and from this transient. 
often insignificant, there shall come a grand residuum of the enduring and the 
glorious. It comes by and by through our fidelity now. The history, then, is 
not all written. It is going on. Quiet times as well as battles make history. It 
is a privilege to be counted in such a line of action, to enter anywhere such a 
succession. We dwell on what has been done that we may complete that 
begun wisely, patiently and with cheer. We see how this Church has done 
the work of a Christian Church for the one hundred and fifty years past, the in- 
fluence it has exerted, the light it has shed, the blessing it has been in this com- 
munity, and we are all sure it was wise that they formed it, that it has been wise 
that they and we have fostered it, that not in vain have four generations of 
Christian men and women watched, prayed, labored. Yes ! we are sure thai: 
this Church has been a blessing to the world, that this is a different people from 
what it would have been had the planting of this ancient Church been delayed, 
or the growth of it, under the blessing of God, and the fidelity of his people, 


Been less than it has been. The best part of the past is not the money given or 
the story as of a successful enterprise, but it is the rich, gathered and still grow- 
ory of wise and devoted men and women— the good done, the labor given, 
the testimony distinct for God, and the example undying. If a "godly man is 
the glory of a town,'' as' the Jews said, we ever fail to understand the debt we 
owe to the faithful ones of the past and to the true ones of the present, from 
whom flow steady streams of usefulness, 

We thank God, to-day, for that already done. We take courage and give 
thanks to God for that Gospel of Christ which furnishes both the spirit and the 
way, the inspiration and the strength. We give our thanks to Thee, our God, 
here where 

" Thrice fifty circling years 

Have seen* Thy people prove 
The richness 0? Thy grace, 
The treasures of Thy love." 

Brethren beloved, our eyes have been on the past, our lives are in the pres- 
ent, our hopes and labors are in the future. We are related, as inheritors, to our 
ancestry ; we are under solemn obligations, as workers, to our posterity. From 
the one we gather gratitude, inspiration, trust in God, to-day. For the other we 
here, to-day, dedicate ourselves upon this ancient altar. We are here not mere- 
ly to laud the dead or praise the living, but, as we stand here, bidding farewell 
to the half-century gone, and clasping the hand, in faith, of that one to come, 
we cannot but think how the Church Militant blends with the Church Triumph- 
ant in this very Church at this very hour. We offer yet another prayer that this 
Mother, ancient and renowned, may yet abide in strength and give forth blessing 



Rev. F. D. Ayer, the present pastor of the North Church, is a native of St. 
Johnsbury, Vt. ; graduated at Dartmouth college in 1856 ; at Andover theolog- 
ical seminary in 1859; was ordained at Milford, N. H., May 1, 186 r, and dis- 
missed September 1, 1S67. He was installed pastor at the North Church, Sep- 
tember 12, 1867. Nathaniel Bouton, his predecessor, was born in Norwalk, Ct., 
June 20, 1799, and graduated at Yale college in 1821 ; at Andover theological 
seminary in 1824; ordained in Concord, N. H., March 23, 1S25 ; resigned 
March 23, 1SO7 ; died June 6, 1878. Dr. Bouton attended during his ministry 
seven hundred and seventy-nine funerals, and solemnized five hundred and four 
marriages, tie kept a complete record of the deaths in town for forty-two years 
— four thousand two hundred and fifty-one — recording the name, the age, and 
the disease, usually giving at the close of each year the average age, the oldest, 
and the ratioto the population. The other pastors were : 

Rev. Timothy Walker, ordained and installed November 18, 1730. Died 
September 1, 1782. Pastorate, — fifty-two years. 

Rev. Israel Evans, installed July 1, 1789. Dismissed July 1, 1797. Pastor- 
ate, — eight years. 

Rev. Asa McFarland. ordained and installed March 7, 1798. Dismissed 
March 23, 1825. Pastorate, — twenty-seven years. 




"Old North Church," 'tis of thee— 
Church of rare unity, 

In faith and love ; 
With heart and voice again, 
In rapturous refrain, 
We join our humble strain 
With songs above. 

The three times fifty years, 
Bright record past, that cheers 

Demand our praise ; 
Not to ourselves, who've striven 
On earth, the praise be given, 
But to Thy name, in Heaven. 

"Ancient of days." 

Still, with the large amount 
Of blessings, we recount 

Deeds of our sires ; 
Such as in earnest fight, 
Firm for the true and right, 
In error's darkest night, 

True faith inspires. 

Lov'd pastors, who long served, 
And ne'er from duty swerved 

Through many a year, 
In heaven, with glad accord, 
Now reap their rich reward, 
And, with their risen Lord, 

In bliss appear. 

Let us who yet remain 
Strive without spot or stain 

True life to live ; 
Firm in the ancient ways, 
That merit highest praise, 
And welcoming what days 

Our God may give. 










Vol. IV 


jSTo. 6 


Out Portsmouth by the sea is a 
grand old town; grand in its history 
and traditions, its noble names and 
patriotic associations, in the records 
and monuments of former prosperity 
and importance. A hundred years 
before the sound of the first white 
settler's axe rang cut over the Penacook 
intervales, the settlement of the first 
capital of New Hampshire had been 
effected and the foundation laid for 
that commercial prosperity, which for 
more than a century and a half gave it 
rank among the foremost of our Amer- 
ican towns. When the fires of the 
Revolution were "kindled in the land, 
Portsmouth was, relatively speaking, a 
great metropolis, the seat of trade and 
commerce, the home of wealth and 
refinement. The warehouses of her 
merchants were filled with the products 
of every land, unladen at their own 
wharves from their many ships whose 
sails had whitened every sea, and 
beauty, elegance and fashion reigned 
in their stately mansions. Here, too, 
was the home of patriotism. The 
cause of American liberty had no ear- 
lier champions, no more steadfast de- 
fenders, in field or forum, than the 
sons of old Portsmouth. Within her 
borders and by her sons the first war- 
1-ke demonstration in the grand strug- 
gle which resulted in the independence 
ot the republic, was organized and 
carried out. The assault upon and 

capture of Fort William and Mary, 
on the fourteenth of December, 1774, 
six months before Bunker Hill, alone 
made Bunker PI ill possible, for the 
powder secured by that assault, led by 
Langdon and. Sullivan, carefully guard- 
ed by the patriots until the hour of sore 
need, was served to the followers of 
Stark and Reid as they entered, that 
memorable conflict upon the Charles- 
town headland. Throughout the entire 
contest John Langdon and his compatri- 
ots were untiring in their support of the 
patriot cause, and in all the colonies 
there was no man upon whose aid and 
counsel Washington relied more fully 
than that of the patriot merchant of 
Portsmouth, whom he saw President of 
the Senate of the infant republic when 
he became its first chief magistrate. 

But while Portsmouth is grand in its 
history, its memories and associations, 
while many of the stately mansions o{ 
its proud old families remain, its pres- 
ent importance is by no means cum- 
in ensurate with its past. Various cir- 
cumstances have conspired to check 
the material progress of New Hamp- 
shire's commercial metropolis, chief 
among which is the fact that the de- 
scendants of the old "first families" 
have failed to cherish the spirit of 
enterprise. They have, largely, led 
lives of elegant leisure, supported by 
the incomes of the fortunes which men 
.mcestors acquired through patient 


industry, content simply with safe in- 
vestments, assuming no risks and mak- 
ing no exertions. In our land and age 
prosperous cities are nut built up, or 
kept up, by men of this character. 
Energy and enterprise are the only 
guarantees of prosperity and success 
for individuals or communities, and 
these seldom come of wealthy or aris- 
tocratic ancestry. It is said that 
"blood tells;" but new blood tells far 
more effective!)' than "blue" blood in 
public progress, as well as individual 
power and development. But for the 
infusion of new blood in the public 
life of our older American cities, none 
of them would have made the substan- 
tial advance which they have shown 
during the last half century. In Bos- 
ton, in New York or in Philadelphia 
we shall find comparatively few of the 
descendants of those who made for- 
tunes for themselves and established 
the early prosperity of their respective 
cities, engaged in any department of 
active business or productive industry. 
The successful merchants, the bankers, 
the railway manager-., the manufact- 
urers, the master mechanics, the dis- 
tinguished men in. professional life, in 
any of these great cities, are neither 
descendants of the old leading families 
nor even native born citizens. Some 
of them aie of foreign birth, but many 
more were reared in our American 
country towns, and found their way in 
youth to the cities, where they have 
wrought out their own fortunes, and at 
the same time contributed directly and 
indirectly to the growth and prosperity 
of the cities of their adoption. There 
are more natives of New Hampshire 
among the successful business and 
professional men of Boston, to-day, 
than there are of Boston itself. In 
fact a very considerable proportion of 
the live and progressive young men of 
our state have been attracted to the 
Massachusetts metropolis, while our 
own seaport city, which, was a rival of 
Boston in earlier days, and which with 
its excellent harbor and great natural 
advantages should have retained its 
relative position and prominence, has 
drawn very (cw of that class from out- 

side its limits, and has lost the ablest 
and most enterprising of those it has 

Whatever business prosperity is now 
manifest, whatever promise of future 
progress may be descried in the pres- 
ent condition of the city of Ports- 
mouth, is due in large degree to the 
work and achievements of the few 
enterprising men, who, born elsewhere, 
have chosen that city as their abiding 
place and field of active labor, preem- 
inent among whom is the subject of 
this sketch. 

Frank Jones is a familiar name with 
the people of New Hampshire, and 
well known beyond its borders. It is 
synonymous with pluck, energy and 
success. The thrifty farmer's son, who 
at sixteen years of age left home with 
all his possessions tied in a cotton 
handkerchief, and went out to battle 
with fortune, with the determination to 
win, could not well 'nave made his way, 
with no assistance but his own will and 
capacity, to the head of the largest 
manufacturing establishment of its 
class in America, to the largest real 
estate ownership in New Hampshire, 
to the mayoralty of his adopted city 
and a seat in the Congress of the 
United States, in the space of twenty- 
five years, without having made a 
striking impression upon the minds of 
the people. The story of his life is 
well known to many. It is a record of 
untiring energy, of constant, system- 
atic well-directed effort, culminating in 
the logical result of substantial success. 
Born in Harrington, September 15, 
1832, Mr. Jones is now in his forty- 
ninth year. He was the fifth of seven 
children of Thomas and Mary (Priest) 
Jones. Thomas Jones, a thrifty and 
well-to-do farmer of Harrington, was 
one of fourteen children ot Pelatiah 
Jones, a successful sea captain., who, 
born in Wales and emigrating to this 
country with his parents, in infancy 
(his father dying on the passage), was 
in early life placed by his mother in the 
service of the well known Portsmouth 
navigator, Captain Sheafe, by whom he 
was trained in the occupation which 
he followed for many years, becoming 



shin owner as we! 

IJ as master. The 
war -of 181 2 made navigation danger- 
ous, and, during its progress, he availed 
himself of a favorable opportunity to 
sell both ship and cargo, and with the 
proceeds purchased the farm in Bar- 
i ngtpji, which became known as the 
Jones homestead, and subsequently 
c tme into the possession of Thomas, 
who, inheriting the Welsh characteris- 
tics of perseverance and sagacity, aided 
by the Scotch thrift and intelligence of 
his wife, a daughter of Captain Joseph 
Priest of Nottingham, added largely 
to his possessions, and accumulated a 
handsome property for a New Hamp- 
shire farmer of that day. 

With the characteristic independence 
of the New England youth his sons 
started out early in life to make their 
own way in the world. It was the 
desire of his parents that Frank should 
remain at home upon the farm; but 
the young man's ambitious spirit was 
not to be satisfied in any such circum- 
scribed sphere of action, When in 
his seventeenth year he obtained his 
father's consent to strike out for him- 
self, and putting his clothing in a bun- 
dle he started on foot for Portsmouth, 
a city with which he was already some- 
what familiar, having driven in more 
than once with charcoal, wood or farm 
products for the city market, in the 
disposal of which he learned his first 
lessons in trade and business life. 
Here his elder brother, Hiram, was 
already well established in the stove 
and hardware business, with several 
men in his employ, most of whom 
engaged in peddling his lighter wares 
through the surrounding towns. Frank 
went to work For his brother and shortly 
made a contract with him for three 
years' service, receiving a thousand 
dollars for the full time, most of which 
he spent as apeddler. The knowledge 
of human nature, and the varied char- 
acteristics of men, which he gained 



tms three years experience 

proved of vast advantage in his future 
business career. His father had en- 
deavored to secure his return home, 
but his brother's promise to receive 
him as a partner in the business at 

the expiration of the contract was a 

temptation too strong to be resisted. 
When reminded of his promise, after 
the contract had expired, his brother 
endeavored to persuade him to continue 
in his employ, offering him a cash 
present of one thousand dollars and a 
thousand dollars a year for a term of five 
years. This was a most tempting offer 
for a youth of twenty years, at that time, 
and he thought at first to accept it ; but 
upon returning to the store after a brief 
visit to his parents, he was forcibly struck 
with the thought that if his brother 
could afford to make him such an offer 
the business was sufficiently profitable 
to make an interest therein desirable, 
and he determined to insist on the 
original agreement, which was accord- 
ingly carried out, and he became a 
partner with his brother in a large and 
well-established business in January, 
1853. Already thoroughly conversant 
with the practical details of the busi- 
ness, he devoted himself thereto with 
all the energy of his nature, and the 
following autumn, his brother being in 
ill health, sold him his interest, leaving 
him, at twenty-one years oi age, the 
sole proprietor. He continued the 
business with eminent success until 
1 86 1, when he sold out, for the pur- 
pose of devoting his undivided ener- 
gies to the management of a brewery, 
in which he had purchased an interest 
three years before, and which had 
finally come entirely into his posses- 

This brewery had been established 
a few years previously by John Swindels, 
an Englishman, who was a thorough 
master of the art of brewing, and made 
a superior quality of ale. but lacked the 
business capacity essential to success. 
Mr. Jones supplied that requisite, and 
under his direction the enterprise soon 
gave promise of substantial returns. He 
shortly purchased his partner's entire 
interest, and assumed the sole manage- 
ment of the business, which became 
every year more prosperous and lucra- 
tive. Many improvements were made, 
and, after the disposal of his hardware 
business, extensive additions were pro- 
jected and carried out by Mr. Jones, 



'! o bring and keep the quality of his ale 
ill 1 to the highest point of excellence 
was Mr. Jones's object from the outset, 
and be consequently determined to 
produce bis own malt. In 1863 he 
built a large malt house, with a capac- 
ity 01" eighty thousand bushels. The 
business increased in magnitude from 
year to year, so that in 1871 he found 
it necessary to build a new brewery, 
which was constructed and arranged 
throughout in the most thorough and 
perfect manner, and furnished with the 
best improved appliances known to the 
business. In 1879 another and still 
larger malt house was erected. The 
annual product of ale at this establish- 
ment, which is now the most extensive 
of its kind in the United States, has in- 
creased from about five thousand bar- 
rels in 1858, to upwards Oi one hundred 
thousand in 1S80. To carry on thus 
immense business requires tire constant 
services of about one hundred men, 
with a large number of teams ; yet Mr. 
Jones has been from the first fully con- 
versant with all the details of the busi- 
ness, including the stock purchases, 
sales, general management and practi- 
cal oversight of the work. Thorough- 
ness has been the rule in ever}' depart- 
ment, and the superior quality of" the 
production, constantly maintained, has 
established its reputation as the best in 
the market throughout and even be- 
yond the limits of New England. In 
1 8 75 Mr. Jones became the leading 
member of a company which purchased 
the well known South Boston brewery 
of Henry Souther & Co., under the firm 
name of Jones, Johnson & Co., Hon. 
James W. Johnson, of Enfield, being a 
member of the firm. A change has 
since been made in the firm, and the 
brewery, now known as the Bay State 
Brewery, is operated under the firm 
name of Jones, Cook & Co., Mr. Jones 
remaining at the head. The produc- 
tion of this establishment is nearly 
equal, in quantity as well as quality, to 
that of the Portsmouth brewery. 

Extensive as has been his business as 
a brewer, with its increasing magnitude 
increasing the demands upon his atten- 
tion, Mr. Jones has been able to lend 

his energies in other directions. The 
care and improvement of the real estate 

which he has from time to time acquir- 
ed, in and about Portsmouth, has occu- 
pied his thought and attention in no 
small degree. Indeed, what he has 
i done in this direction in the last dozen 
years would test the full capacity of 
many efficient business men, so far as 
the care and oversight of the work alone 
is concerned ; and has contributed 
more than the efforts of any other one 
or even ten men to the prosperity and 
progress of the city. In addition to 
numerous business blocks and build- 
ings containing some thirty stores and 
the usual complement of offices, he 
erected last year upon the site of the 
old National House, which had been 
destroyed by fire, the most elegant and 
thoroughly constructed business block 
to be found in New Hampshire, con- 
taining three large stores, several offices, 
and a spacious hall for the use of the 
Odd Fellows organization. Although 
one of the most costly buildings of its 
size to be found in the country, its ex- 
cellence renders it desirable for busi- 
ness, and it pays a profitable rental, as 
does ail of Mr. Jones's business real es- 
tate, and the numerous rented dwell- 
ings of which he is the owner. 

The pride of Portsmouth is the Rock- 
ingham House. This large and beau- 
tiful hotel, which in architectural design, 
substantial elegance of construction, 
convenience of interior arrangement, 
and luxuriousness of furnishing, cannot 
be equalled in any of the provincial 
cities of the Union, stands upon the site 
of the old Langdon house, the home of 
Woodbury Langdon, a brother of John 
Langdon, and one of the early judges 
of the supreme court. The original 
house was burned in the great fire which 
devastated Portsmouth in 1781, but 
was rebuilt by Judge Langdon five years 
later. In 1S30 the place was purchase 
ed by a company and transformed into 
a hotel. Coming into the possession of 
Mr. Jones, it was substantially rebuilt in 
1870, as it now stands, at an expendi- 
ture which of itself might well be re- 
garded as a handsome fortune. But 
the Rockingham House is not the only 


nor "he greatest venture of Mr. Jones 
iu the hotel line. "The Wentworth," 

ii Newcastle, the island town in Ports- 
mouth harbor, completed by Mr. Jones 
in iSyo-'So, is already well known as 
the finest arid most magnificent sum- 
mer hotel on the New England coast. 
In location, construction, and all its ap- 
pointments, it is unrivalled by any es- 
tablishment of the kind at any of our 
Northern summer resorts, and although 
first opened to the public last season, 
it at once commanded a patronage lim- 
ited only by its capacity for accommo- 
dation, and that is certainly unsurpassed 
in the state. Both the Rockingham and 
the Wentworth are under the manage- 
ment of Col. F. W. Hilton, and togeth- 
er insure for Portsmouth the favorable 
consideration of the travelling and 
pleasure seeking public. In these two 
hotels, alone, each the best of its class 
in the state, and unexcelled anywhere, 
Mr. Jones has given the most practical 
and substantial demonstration of his en- 
terprise and public spirit. 

There is still another field of labor to 
which Mr. Jones has devoted no little 
time and attention for some years past, 
— that of agriculture, the noblest of all 
pursuits. Bom and reared upon a farm 
and familiarized with farm work in all 
its details, he never lost his interest 
therein or his attachment for rural life. 
In 1 36 7 he purchased a valuable farm 
about a mile and a half from the cen- 
tral portion of the city, upon an elevat- 
ed location known as ''Gravelly Ridge." 
Here he has made his summer home 
since that time. He has acquired two 
other adjacent farms, giving him alto- 
gether some four hundred acres of land, 
which has been brought under a superior 
state of cultivation. He cuts aunually 
two hundred and fifty tons of hay, — an 
amount probably exceeded by no farm- 
er in the state : certainly not from the 
same extent of land. His horses and 
cattle are not to be excelled. His ox- 
en have long been known as the largest 
znd finest in New England, and have 
been admired by thousands at various 
state and county fairs. Of these he 
keeps from ten to twenty voice, employ- 
ing them for all heavy work upon the 

farm as well as about the brewery. [:i 
the general cause of agricultural • o- 
gress, Mr. Jones has taken much i 
est and done much in various way: for 
the promotion thereof, especially in . 
management and direction of fairs In 
his locality, to whose success he has 
contributed as largely as any man \v] . >e 
entire time and energies have been de- 
voted to agricultural pursuits. 

A business man, in the full sense of 
the word, and thoroughly devoted to 
his business, in management and de- 
tail. Mr. Jones has never sought public 
preferment, or aspired to official dis- 
tinction. Although his name has fig- 
ured prominently in politics for several 
years past, it has' been through no effort 
or desire upon his part. A democrat 
from training and conviction, he has 
ever been devotedly attached to the 
great fundamental principles of justice 
and equality upon which that party is 
based, and has labored for their vindi- 
cation and triumph in the success of 
the party at the polls. The fact of his 
thorough business capacity, cou:. ' 
with his zealous labor in behalf or" 
democratic cause, has commended i 
strongly to his party associates as 
whose name upon their ticket, as a c 
didate for any position of public tr 
could not fail to add greatly to 
strength before the people. He i 
therefore, been constantly urged to 
cept the nomination for one or ana; 
responsibe office at the hands of 
party for many years past, and has at 
times reluctantly yielded to their solic- 
itations. He has been four times die 
democratic candidate for mayor of 
Portsmouth, and twice elected to that 
office — in 186S and 1S69 — although 
the republican party was in a majority 
in the city at the time. He was also, 
for two years, the candidate of his party 
for state senator, and, though failing oi 
an election, very nearly overcome the 
decided republican majority in the dis- 
trict. In 1875 he was nominated with 
great unanimity by the democratic con- 
vention at Newmarket for representa- 
tive in Congress for the first, congres- 
sional district, and in the election de- 




feated the republican nominee) 



Charles S. Whitehouse, of Rochester, 

by a plurality of three hundred and 
thirty-six votes, although at the previous 
election the republicans elected their 
candidate. Renominated for the next 
CongresSjin 1877, the republicans made 
a determined effort to secure his defeat, 
selecting as their candidate. (Jen. Gil- 
man Marston, of Exeter, the ablest 
member of their party in the state, who 
had won distinction in military as well 
as civil life, and had been three times 
elected to the same office in past years ; 
yet so great was Mr. Jones's popularity 
and so well satisfied were the people 
with his services (or the previous term, 
that his opponents were unable to com- 
pass his defeat, and he was returned by 
a plurality of forty votes over the for- 
midable candidate who had been pitted 
against him. At the close of his sec- 
ond term in Congress, although strong- 
ly importuned to be again a candidate, 
he positively refused, the requirements 
of his business being such that he could 
not longer neglect them. In the last 
gubernatorial canvass in the state, 
against his own emphatic protest, with 
a unanimity never before equalled, he 
was made the candidate of his party for 
governor, and, although the defeat of 
the democracy was known to be inev- 
itable, after the result of. the Indiana 
election in October had turned the po- 
litical current in the country in favor of 
the republicans, he received not only a 
larger vote than had ever before been 
cast for a democratic candidate, but 
larger than had ever before been re- 
ceived by the candidate of any party in 
a state election. 

As mayor of Portsmouth, Mr. Jones 
gave a hearty arid effective support to 
all measures calculated to promote the 
material interests of the city, exercising 
the same care and judgment in the di- 
rection of municipal affairs as has char- 
acterized his action in his own pi ivate 
business. With due regard to economy 
in expenditure, he inaugurated many 
substantial improvements, and, as con- 
ceded upon all sides, gave a more de- 
cided impetus to the progressive spirit 
in the community than it had experi- 
enced before for a century. In this 

connection, demonstrating Mr. Jones's 
capacity and ready adaptation to an 
untried position, it may not be inappro- 
priate to quote the opinion of a well 
known citizen of Portsmouth, and life 
long political opponent, who had him- 
self served as mayor, and was a mem- 
ber of the board of aldermen during 
Mr. Jones's incumbency of that office — 
the late Hon. F. W. Miller. In an ed- 
itorial article in his paper, the Ports- 
mouth Weekly, during the late political 
canvass, in reply to an abusive attack 
upon Mr. Jones in another republican 
paper, he declared that he had known 
him intimately for about thirty years, 
and had never met his equal in readi- 
ness and capability for adapting himself 
to any circumstances and any condi- 
tion. " For instance," said he, " we 
chanced to be elected one of the board 
of aldermen — six republicans to two 
democrats — when Mr. Jones was elect- 
ed mayor ; yet under those peculiarly 
delicate conditions, and notwithstand- 
ing he was entirely unused to presiding 
in any deliberative body, and also had 
never been a member of either branch 
of the city government, yet he fulfilled 
all the duties of the trying position with 
entire ease and great readiness, and 
scarcely an error — so much so that a 
man of the largest experience, who sat 
with him on the board for the two years, 
we have heard more than once remark, 
that Mr. Jones was, without exception, 
the quickest and readiest man he ever 
saw. It has also been our fortune to 
be associated with Mr. Jones in the 
conduct of several fairs (where he 
counted more than any other ten men), 
and in various other public and private 
matters ; and it is of no use to tell us 
that 'he doesn't know much outside of 
his particular line of business.' As to 
his private . business he can carry as 
much as almost any man in the world, 
and carry it easier j and has the mi- 
nutest detail of everything at his tongue's 
end at any moment, as we never knew 
any other man to have." 

l\\ Congress, Mr. Jones was not mere- 
ly faithful to his party, but a true and 
devoted servant of the people. Always 
at his post in the House and the com- 



til tee room, he nevertheless at Lend eel 

fully than most members to the I 
miitiess demands upon his time and 
: Dtion by individual constituents, for 
| in matters of business with the va- 
rious departments and in other direc- 
j about the capitol. His great busi- 
ness capacity and experience, his judg- 
ment and energy, rendered him remark- 
. [>ly efficient in the labors of the com- 
mittee room. He served as a member 
of the militia committee, and also of 
that upon naval affairs. As a member 
of the latter committee he rendered the 
most effective service, in the extended 
investigation of the management of the 
navy yards, instituted with a view to 
the suppression of the corrupt practices 
which had. grown up in connection 
therewith. Upon all questions involv- 
ing the business interests of the country 
his judgment was regarded by the party 
leaders as second to that of no other 
member. Speaker Randall has fre- 
quently borne testimony to his capac- 
ity, and, in a letter now before the writ- 
er, declares that " he was a faithful rep- 
resentative — an honor to himself and 
the country, bringing to the discharge 
of his duties a business knowledge that 
made him very valuable as a committee 

Although having himself enjoyed very 
limited educational advantages, no man 
appreciates more than Mr. Jones the 
value of education, or is more ready to 
advance educational interests in the 
community. His first year's salary 
while mayor of Portsmouth lie gave to 
the city to be held in trust, the interest 
to be appropriated each year for the 
purchase of books for the high school 
library. The second year's salary he 
contributed as the foundation for a fund 
to be used in establishing a public li- 
brary for the use of the city, the same 
being placed in the hands of trustees, 
upon the condition that if $5,000 should 
be raised in five vears he would then 
himself add another $1,000 to the fund. 
He has since extended the time for tire 
raising of the five thousand dollars, and 
it is understood that the fund is now 
about completed. The public school 
system has no stronger friend or more 

earnest supporter than Mr. Jones, and 
he has always favored liberal appropri- 
ations for its maintenance. So, too, 
while not himself a member of any 

church organization, he has never failed 
to contribute liberally in aid of the va- 
rious churches of the city in which he 
lives, though more directly interested 
in the Middle street Baptist church, 
where his family regularly worship. Not 
only lias he given freely iov the assist- 
ance of the various religious organiza- 
tions of his own city, in building and 
other enterprises, but has also respond- 
ed without stint to many appeals for 
material aid from churches in other 

The construction of tire Dover aiid 
Portsmouth railroad, connecting the two 
cities from which it is named, an enter- 
prise which has contributed materially 
to the prosperity of both, was largely — 
perhaps it may properly be said mainly 
due to the persistence and energy of 
Mr. Jones, who has been president of 
the corporation from, the start, devoted 
much time and attention to the direc- 
tion of the work, and effected an ex- 
tended lease to the Eastern railroad in 
New Hampshire, at a rental of six per 
cent., even before the work of construc- 
tion had commenced, the terms of 
which lease, as it happens, the Eastern 
railroad has attempted in vain to avoid. 
Mr. Jones was for some time a director 
in the Eastern railroad, and is now a 
director of the YVolfeborough road, of 
which he was one of the projectors. 
He is also a director and vice-president 
of the Portsmouth Trust and Guarranty 
Company. Aside from what he has 
done in the way of individual enterprise 
to promote the material prosperity of 
the city of his adoption, he has been 
foremost among its citizens to encour- 
age and assist others. Various manu- 
facturing industries have been establish- 
ed, largely through his influence and 
material aid, among which may be men- 
tioned an extensive shoe manufactory, 
which went into successful operation a 
year or two since. The recent destruc- 
tion by fire of the Keatsarge Manufac- 
turing Company's large cotton mill 
must prove a very serious blow to the 



business prosperity of Portsmouth, un- 
less the same be promptly rebuilt and 
manufacturing operations resumed. 
Strong efforts having been made with- 
out avail to induce the company to re- 
build (exemption from taxation for a 
period of ten years having been voted 
by the city government), a movement 
is under way for the erection of a mill, 
at a cost of not less than 5500.000, by 
a home company, of which Mr. Jones 
will be a leading shareholder and active 
manager. In this practical and sub- 
stantial manner does he contribute to 
the welfare of the community in which 
he dwells, 

Mr. Jones has two brothers now liv- 
ing. Nathan, an elder brother, being a 
farmer in Newington, having retired 
from business in Portsmouth some time 
since. True W., the younger brother, 
is the active manager of the Bay State 
brewery of Jones, Cook & Co., at South 
Boston. His sister is the wife of ]o- 
siah H. Morrison, of Portsmouth, chief 
brewer and general superintendent of 
Mr. Jones's Portsmouth brewery. From 
the death of his father, which occurred 
some years ago, until her own decease 
in August, 1 8 78, at the age of seventy- 
two years, his mother resided with her 
daughter, Mrs. Morrison. She was a 
woman of strong mental endowments 
and estimable traits of character, taking 
a deep interest in the welfare of her 
children and great pride in their suc- 
cess. After his father's death, Mr. 
Jones purchased the interest of the oth- 
er heirs in the family homestead and 
outland in Harrington, a large portion 
of which he retains at the present time. 
September 15, 1861, upon his twenty- 
ninth birthday anniversary, Mr, Jones 
was united in marriage with the widow 
of his brother, Hiram Jones, who died 
in July, 1 85 9, leaving one child, a daugh- 
ter, Emma I. Jones. Mrs. Jones was 
Martha Sophia Leavitt, daughter of Wil- 
liam B. Leavitt, of Springfield, Mass. 
They have no children except the 
daughter mentioned, who is regarded 
by Mr. Jones with as strong affection as 
an own daughter could be. Some years 
since she became the wife of Col. 
Charles A. Sinclair, only son of Hon. 

I John G. Sinclair, the young couple 

I making their home with Mi. and Mrs. 

! Jones. They have three children — 

I daughters — Grace ]., born in Au; 1 t, 

1 1874; Martha Sophia. August. [876; 

j and Mary Louise, January. 1879. These, 

with the mother of Mrs. Jones, consti 

tute the family circle in one of the most 

attractive homes to be found in New 


Notwithstanding the multiplicity of 
business cares Mr. Jones takes great 
delight in home comfort and pleasure, 
and spares neither effort nor expense 
in promoting the same. Since Ins 
purchase of the farm at "Gravelly 
Ridge," he has made that his summer 
residence, spending his winters at the 
Rockingham House in the city for 
several years ; but last year he com- 
pleted a large and elegant residence at 
the farm, which will be henceforth a 
permanent home. The house, which 
is one of the largest, most thoroughly 
built, conveniently arranged, and taste- 
fully furnished private residences in New 
England, was planned and constructed 
throughout, with a view to the comfort 
and enjoyment of its occupants, and 
all its sunoundings are in perfect keep- 
ing with the general purpose. The 
spacious out-buildings, including the 
finest barn in Rockingham county, are 
so placed as to afford the least obstruc- 
tion to the view, which is broad and 
commanding. The grounds are taste- 
fully laid out, and garden, summer 
house, grapery, and greenhouses luxu- 
riously stocked with a rich and almost 
endless variety of flowering plants, 
vines and shrubs, native and tropical, 
all under care of the most experienced 
gardeners, lend their charms to the 

In this beautiful home, surrounded 
by all the material comforts which the 
ample fortune won by a life of indus- 
try and enterprise commands, he passes 
so much of his time as lie is able to with- 
draw from the cares and demands of 
his large and varied business interests. 
Here he entertains his host of friends, 
and finds the rest and relaxation which 
even his vigorous powers of" body and 
mind demand. No man has more 



fully earned the complete retirement j general welfare of our little common - 
from business activity, which many I wealth than Frank: Jones of Ports- 
would assume under the same circu'm- I mouth-. No man has more or warmer 
stances, bat which, with his energetic i personal friends, or is held in higher 
nature would bring him no satisfaction, j esteem by the community at large, 
No man has contributed more to ad- [ regardless of party or condition, 
vance the material prosperity and the i 



Worcester defines the substantive turn- 
pike as "a gate on a road to obstruct 
passengers, in order to take toll ; orig- 
inally consisting of cross bars armed 
with pikes, and turning on a post or 

This is the historic and primitive 
meaning of the term. It is still used 
in that sense in Great Britain. It was 
originally used in the same sense here, 
but subsequently it was popularly used 
in the North, and "pike" in the Middle 
states ana the South as synonymous 
with turnpike road. 

An eminent legal authority in this 
country has denned it as ''a public road 
paved with stones or some other hard 
bubstance." Another has defined it as 
'"'a road whose constructors are author- 
ized to exact tolls." and further states 
that "the term is generic, and embraces 
roads of various materials and construc- 
tion, such as plank roads, gravel roads, 
etc., as well as those made in the man- 
ner of ordinan' high roads." 

A road is termed a turnpike road not 
as is generally supposed because of its 
form or on account of the materials of 
which it is composed. The word turn- 
pike in and of itself does not mean 
road, but gates such as are used to 
throw across the road to stop the pas- 
sage of travellers, their carriages and 
the like until the tolls are collected. 
Arid the word was used in this sense in 
the first act ever passed in New Hamp- 
shire. '-And be it further enacted, that 
the said corporation may erect and fix 

j such and so many gates or turnpikes up- 
I on and across the said road, as will be 
I necessary and sufficient to collect the 
tolls and duties hereinafter granted to the 
said company, from all persons travel- 
ling in the same with horses, cattle, 
carts and carriages." 

See act of June 16, 1796. 
These roads are not of Amierican 
origin. They existed in the mother 
country long before the days of Mans- 
field and Blackstone. The first turn- 
pike road was between the West Riding 
of Yorkshire and London. This act 
was passed in the fifteenth year of the 
reign of Charles the Second. It was 
an innovation that excited great hostil- 
ity. The people benefitted by it, tore 
down the toll-bars, and the new enter- 
prise was baptized in blood before the 
people would submit to it. The new 
system triumphed by slow degrees. 

Macaulay (History of England, vol. 
1, pp. 293-4-5), graphically describes 
the condition of that country with re- 
spect to communication before such 
roads became acceptable to the public. 
Befoie that day Great Britain had her 
wooden walls, her great " highways of 
commerce," her parish, prescriptive arid 
toll-roads, but in general these were 
neither watched, lighted, nor had the 
appliances for weighing. 

Capital seeking an outlet, saw its op- 
portunity, and under a swarm of turn- 
pike acts, the country was at last grid- 
ironed with these roads. 
'I 'hese acts were, in general, based 



upon the same mode! ; but they differ- 
ed in details, and sometimes in essen- j 
tials. George the Third came to the 

throne, October 25, 1760. In the sev- 
enth year of his reign, Parliament found 
its way out o( the turmoil and confu- 
sion by passing an act entitled " an act 
to explain, amend, and reduce into 
one act of Parliament the general laws 
now in being for regulating the turnpike 
roads of this kingdom, and for other 
purposes therein mentioned." This act 
is commonly known as >; the general 
turnpike act." 

The turnpike craze in this state is al- 
most forgotten ; we caught it from 
Massachusetts; it began in 1795 and 
culminated about twenty years after ; 
it wrought a revolution in public travel, 
relatively, nearly as great as that 
brought about by the railway craze 
between 1S40 and 1S50. The system 
with us did not originate in the local 
want or demand along the lines con- 
templated. Other and more far-reach- 
ing causes, as we shall see, were at the 
bottom of the movement. The settle- 
ment of the state was necessarily by 
progressive, though at times apparently 
simultaneous steps. First came 
the settlement and location of the 
four towns and the opening of commu- 
nication between them ; then the ad- 
vent of the trapper, hunter, and scout 
into the unsettled portion ; then came 
the land grants and the settlement in 
isolated locations ; then the blazed 
path to the parent towns and to the 
cabin of the pioneer or the outposts j 
then the drift-ways, cart- ways, and 
the local roads winding from cabin to 
cabin ; then the town-ways and session 
or county roads, with here and there 
the "provincial" roads like that which 
passes through Giimanton and that 
which was laid out and built from the 
Gerrish place — now the county farm at 
Boscawen — to the college at Hanover 
in 17S4-S6 by legislative committee, 
and that laid otit by a like committee 
from Hale's bridge, in Walpole, in the 
county of Cheshire, running sixty 
miles to a pitch-pine tree on Deer- 
neck in Chester. 

See act of February 22, 1794. 

Fifty-three turnpike companies were 
incorporated in this state. The ac.ts 
of incorporation in Massachusetts were 
in fact based on English models, but 
the Bay State mind, then as now, felt 
itself competent to improve upon any 
model, irrespective of whether it was 
the work of human hands, or o( the 
Divine Architect ; and as minds differed 
even in Massachusetts there was a 
marked diversity in these acts, and the 
New Hampshire acts were little less 
consistent or coherent. 

" Tire New Hampshire turnpike 
road" is commonly known as "the first 
New Hampshire turnpike " because it 
was the first act of the kind in this 
state. John Hale, Arthur Livermore, 
Isaac Waldron, John Goddard, Thomas 
Leavitr, William Hale and Peter Green, 
all notable men, were the corporators 
specially named in the act. This act 
was passed June 16, 1796. The road 
ran from Piscataqua bridge in Durham 
to the Merrimack river in Concord, 
passing through Lee, Barrington, Not- 
tingham, Northwood, Epsom, and 
Chichester. The distance was thirty- 
six miles. The elaborate plan or sur- 
vey of this pioneer turnpike in this 
state may still be seen in the state- 
house in Concord. The act contains 
in effect eleven sections. The first 
gave the names of the corporators, the 
name of the corporation, and conferred 
upon it the inestimable privilege of 
suing and being sued ; the second 
provided for the organization and the 
establishment of regulations and. by- 
laws for the government thereof; the 
third empowered the corporation "to 
survey, lay out, make and keep in 
repair a turnpike road or highway of 
four rods wide, in such route or track, 
as in the best of their judgment and 
skill, will combine shortness of distance 
with the most practicable ground, be 
tween the termini ; the fourth provides 
that the damages to land owners 
should be fixed by the court of com- 
mon pleas, if the parties could not agree ; 
the fifth in relation to " gates " and 
" turnpikes " we have already quoted ; 
the sixth authorized the appointment 
of toll-gatherers and fixed the rates of 



toll; the seventh authorized the pur- 
chase, of one thousand acres of land 
in fee simple, and provided that the 
s! ares be assigned by deed, and that 

the >havas boiu 

Id for 


! sive, by a direct road from Concord to 
; Piscataqua bridge than it now is, be- 

| tween the country and any commercial 
i seaport ; that the cxpensivencss of an 
J undertaking of this kind, howevei use- 
| ful to the community, would burthen 
the towns through which it may pass so 
heavily as to render it difficult to effect 
so important a purpose, otherwise than 
by an incorporated company who 
might be indemnified by a toll for the 
sums that should be expended by them ; 
therefore it was prayed by the petition- 
ers that they and their associates might 
be incorporated into a body corporate 
for the aforesaid purpose under such 
limitations, and with such tolls as might 
be thought lit, which prayer being rea- 
sonable, &c." 

The second New Hampshire turn- 
pike road was incorporated December 
26, 1799. It ran from Claremont 
through Unity, Lempster, Washington, 
Marlow, Hillsborough, Antrim, Deer- 
ing, Francestown, Lyndeborough, New 
Boston, Mont Vernon, and to Am- 
herst, though as respects several of 
these towns it merely " cut the cor- 
ners." It was fifty miles in length. 

The third was incorporated Decem- 
ber 27, 1799. It ran from Bellows 
Falls and Walpole, through Westmore- 
land, Surry, Keene, Marlborough, Jaf- 
frey, and in a direction towards Boston. 
The distance was fifty miles. 

The petition for the fourth New 
Hampshire turnpike road was as fol- 
lows : 

" To the Honorable Senate and 
House of Representatives in General 
Court convened, at Concord, within & 
for the State of New Hampshire, on 
the first Wednesday of June, Anno 
Domini 1800. 

The petition of Elisha Payne, Russell 
Freeman, and Constant Stoors, humbly 
shews that the citizen., of this State expe- 
rience great inconveniences from the 
badness of the roads between Merri- 
mack river and the towns of Hanover 
& Lebanon ; that die trade 01 the 
western parts of this state, & of the 
northern parts of the State of Vermont 
is of course turned from our own sea- 

ment or assessments ; the eighth pro- 
hibits the taking of toll prior to the 
expenditure of six hundred dollars 
upon such mile of the road, a pro- 
portionate sum upon the whole num- 
ber of miles ; by the ninth the corpo- 
ration was liable to be indicted and 
lined the same as towns for defective 
highways, with a pro-iso that if the 
turnpike road ran over any part of the 
road then used the company should 
neither collect toll for that, part nor be 
liable to repair it ; the tenth provided 
that an account of the expenditures 
and profits should be laid before the 
superior court at the end of twenty 
years under penalty of forfeiture of 
charter, that if the net profits for the 
twenty years should exceed twelve per 
cent per annum, the court might re- 
duce the tolls so that it should not 
exceed that rate, and if the profit was 
Jess than six per cent the judges might 
raise the toll so that the rate should 
not be ies^ than six nor more than 
twelve per cent ; the eleventh provides 
that the charter should be void unless 
the road should be completed in ten 
years, with the proviso that the state, 
after the expiration of forty years, 
might convert the same into a public 
highway by repaying what had been 
expended by the company, with interest 
at the rate of twelve per cent per 
annum thereon, after deducting the 
amount of the toll actually received. 

Some ol the provisions of this act 
and that of the fourth, are in marked 
contrast. The preamble to this act 
and the petition for the fourth should 
be read together ; they were both the 
work of comprehensive minds having 
the same objects in view. 

i he preamble is as follows : 

" Whereas a petition has been pre- 
sented to the general court, setting 
forth that the communication between 
the sea coast and the interior parts 
of the state, might be made much 
•'"'Ore easy, convenient and less expen- | ports and our most commercial towns 



to those of Connecticut & New York ; 
that the natural impediments between 
the aforesaid places and said Merrimack 
river render the provisions by law for 
making & repairing public roads 
wholly inadequate to the purpose of 
rendering the communication easy, con- 
venient & safe ; that a plan for open- 
ing & extending a communication 
from Lake Champlain to the mouth of 
White river in Vermont, by means of a 
turn pike road from said lake to the 
head of said river, is contemplated by 
several enterprising citizens of that 
state, & is encouraged by their gov- 
ernment, under an expectation that the 
.interests of our citizens will induce 
them to meet and extend a plan so well 
calculated to invite & facilitate an in- 
tercourse which would be highly bene- 
ficial to both : wherefore, your petition- 
ers pray that they and such others as 
may associate with them, may be in- 
corporated into a body corporate & 
politick, with such powers and under 
such limitations as may be thought fit ; 
to build & keep in repair a turnpike 
road, to begin at the most convenient 
place, at the river road in the town of 
Boscawen or Salisbury, &, extend west- 
wardly in such particular direction. & 
across such lands as shall be most ad- 
visable, to the east bank of Connect- 
icut river, in the town of Lebanon, and 
to strike said bank nearly opposite the 
mouth of White river ; and also, to build 
and keep in repair, a turn pike road, to 
begin at the east abutment of White 
river falls bridge and extend southeast- 
wardly in the nearest direction in the 
most feasible way till it intersects the 
road first mentioned, and to become a 
branch thereof; and that your petition- 
ers may be empowered to collect such 
toils as may be a reasonable compensa- 
tion for such sums as they may have to 
expend in making & repairing said 
road, and, as in duty bound, will ever 
pray, etc. Elisha Payne, 

Russell Freeman, 
consta nt stoo rs." 
On June n. 1S00, the Mouse of 
Representatives postponed further con- 
sideration of said petition until die first 
Tuesday of the next session, and order- 

ed the petitioners to give notice there- 
of by publishing the substance of tl - 
petition and the order of court thereon 
in the newspaper printed at Hanovei 
three weeks successively commencing 
six weeks -prior to said day of hearing , 
and by serving " a like copy upon the 
selectmen of the several towns through 
which the road may pass." 

The following ceriitlcates show the 
manner in which this order was com- 
plied with : 

" This may certify that I, the sub- 
scriber, on or about the 1 6th of Sep- 
tember last, left with one of the select- 
men for the town of Enfield, a newspa- 
per printed at Hanover, dated Sept'r 
7, iSoo, containing a petition of 
Elisha Payne, Russell Freeman, & 
Constant Storrs, for a turnpike road, 
and order of the general court thereon. 
Elisha Payne, Junr. 

Nov. iS, iSoo." 

" This may certify tiiat I, Samuel 
Kimball of Andover, about the middle 
of September last, delivered to the se- 
lectmen of the several towns of Spring- 
held, Grafton, Andover, & Salisbury, 
to the selectmen of each town, a news- 
paper printed at Hanover of the 8th of 
September, iSoo, in which was con- 
tained a. petition of Elisha Payne, Rus- 
sell PYeeman, & Constant Storrs, for a 
turnpike road, and order of the general 
court thereon. Per me. 

Samuel Kimball. 

Lebanon, Nov. 12th, 1800." 

On November 25, 1800, the House 
"voted that the prayer thereof be grant- 
ed and that the petitioners have leave 
to bring in a bill accordingly," with 
which the senate on the next day con- 

The population of the state in 1800 
was 1 S3, 868 ; but the population of the 
towns through some portion of which 
the turnpike passed was less than 10,- 
000. Boscawen had 1,414; Salisbury 
had 1,767 ; Andover had 1,133 ; Kear- 
sarge Gore had 179; Springfield had 
570 : Enfield had i,i2i ; Lebanon had 
1,574 Hanover had 1,912. 

Before considering the act of incor- 
poration, it may be useful to advert 
briefly to some of the more salient of 



the almost innumerable provisions of 
the English turnpike acts. 

They provided that two oxen were to 
be considered the same as one horse ; 
that cattle straying on a turnpike road 
might be impounded ; that nails in 
wheel tires should be countersunk so 
that they should not project more than 
one-fourth of an inch above the sur- 
face ; that carrier's dogs should not be 
chained to the wagons ; that teams 
should not descend hills with locked 
wheels unless resting on skid pans or 
slippers ; that supernumerary " beasts 
of draught " should not be used with- 
out license ; that no goods should be 
unloaded before coming to a turnpike 
gate or weighing machine ; that drivers 
should not turn from the road to avoid 
such machine ; that children under 
thirteen years should not be drivers ; 
that all drivers must give tbeii' names ; 
that no driver should ride, etc., without 
some one on foot or horseback to guide 
the team ; that drivers when meeting 
other carriages " must keep to the left 
side of the roael ;" that no person 
should pull down, damage, injure, or de- 
stroy any lamp or lamp post put up in or 
near the side of a turnpike road or toll 
house, or extinguish the light of such 
lamp ; and that no windmill should be 
erected within two hundred yards of 
any part of the turnpike road. 

It was made the duty of the turnpike 
surveyor to prevent and remove ail an- 
noyances by filth, dung, ashes, rubbish, 
or other things whatsoever, even if laid 
upon a common within eighty feet of 
the centre of the road, and to turn any 
water couise, sinks or drains which ran 
into, along, or out of any turnpike road 
to its prejudice, and to open, drain and 
cleanse water courses, or ditches ad- 
joining the road and to deepen and en- 
large the same if the owners neglected 
so to do after seven days' notice in 

With very trifling differences the 
same rule was applied to obstructions 
of highways and turnpikes. 

No tree, brush, or shrub was allowed 
within fifteen feet of the centre, unless 
|° r ornament, or shelter to the house, 
building or courtyard of the owner. 

Hedges and boughs of trees were to be 
kept cut and pruned, while the posses- 
sors of the lands adjoining the toads 
were to cut down, prune and lop the 
trees growing on or near the hedges or 
other fences in such a manner that the 
highways should not be prejudiced by 
the shade, and so that the sun and wind 
should not be excluded from them to 
their damage, with the proviso that no 
oak trees or hedges must be cut except 
in April, May, or June, or ash, elm, or 
other trees except in December. Janu- 
ary, February, or March. The survey- 
or could not compel the cutting of 
hedges except between the last day of 
September and the last day of March. 

The hedges were to be cut six feet 
from the surface of the ground, and the 
branches of trees, bushes and shrubs 
were also to be cut, and were treated 
as a nuisance if they overhung the road 
so as to impede or annoy any person or 
carriage travelling there. 

When a turnpike road was laid out, 
which rendered an old road unneces- 
sary, the trustees, etc., could discontin- 
ue the old road which thereby vested in 
them, and they might sell and convey 
the same by deed, or they might by 
agreement give up the same to the own- 
ers of adjoining lands by way of ex- 
change, or the old road might be sold 
to some adjoining land owner, or in 
ease he refused to purchase to some 
other person. 

Upon the completion of the contract 
the soil of the old road vested in the 
purchaser and his heirs, — saving fossils, 
mines and minerals to the original pro- 

The exceptions under the English 
acts were much more minute than un- 
der section six of the act under consid- 

No toll could be collected for horses 
or carriages which only crossed the 
turnpike, or which did not pass one 
hundred yards thereon, or for horses 
or carriage.^ conveying any cue to r>i 
from the election of a member of the 
county where the road was situate ; or 
for the mails or the military seivice, 
nor for any inhabitant of a parish, etc., 
attending a funeral therein, nor for any 



curate, etc., visiting any sick parish- 
ioner or attending to any other paro- 
chial duty within his parish ; nor from 

any person going to or returning from 
his parochial church or chape! or usual 
place of religious worship tolerated by 
law, on Sundays or on any day on which 
divine service has by authority allowed 
to be celebrated. 

The following is a transcriptof the 
act, taken from the records of the 
corporation : 



An act t incorporate a company by 
the name of the Proprietors of the 
Fourth Turnpike Road in New Hamp- 

Section i. Be it enacted by the 
Senate ec House of Representatives 
in general court convened, that Elisha 
Payne, Russell Freeman and Constant 
Storrs and their associates and succes- 
sors be, and they are hereby incorpo- 
rated and made a body corporate and 
politic under the name of the proprie- 
tors of the .Fourth Turnpike Road in 
New Hampshire, and in that name 
may sue & prosecute, and be sued 
and prosecuted to final judgment and 
execution, and shall be and hereby are 
vested with ail the powers and privi- 
leges which by law are incident to 
corporations of a like nature. 

Sec. 2. And be it further en- 
acted, that the said Elisha Payne, or 
Russell Freeman shall call a meeting 
of said proprietors by advertisement in 
the newspapers printed at Concord 
& Hanover, to be holden at any 
suitable time and place at least thirty 
days from the first publication of said 
advertisement, and the proprietors by a 
vote of the majority of those present 
or represented at said meeting, ac- 
counting and allowing one vote to each 
share in all cases, shall choose a clerk, 
who shall be sworn to the faithful dis- 
charge of said office, and shall also 
agree on the method of calling meet- 
ings, and at the same, or at any subse- 
quent meetings may elect such officers, 
and make and establish such rules and 

bye-laws, as to them shall seem neces- 
sary ami convenient for the regulation 

and government of said corporation, 
for carrying into effect the purpose 
aforesaid, and for collecting the toll? 
hereinafter established, and the sarr 


ws mav cans 


ie executed, 

the breach 

and annex penalties to 
thereof; provided the said rules am 
bye -laws are not repugnant to the con- 
stitution and laws of this state : and 
all representations shall be proved by 
writing signed by the person to be 
represented, which shall be filed with 
the clerk, and this act and all rules, 
regulations and proceedings of said 
corporation shall be fairly and truly 
recorded by the clerk in a book or 
books provided and kept for that pur- 

Sec. 3. And be it further en- 
acted, that the said corporation are 
empowered to survey, lay out, make 
and keep in repair, a turnpike road of 
four rods wide, in such rout or tracts 
as in the best of their judgment and 
skill shall combine shortness of dis- 
tance with the most practicable ground 
from the east bank of Connecticut 
river in the town of Lebanon, nearly 
opposite to the mouth of White river, 
eastwardly to the west branch of Mer- 
rimack river in the town of Salisbury 
or Boscawen ; and also to survey, lay 
out, make and keep in repair as afore- 
said a turnpike road four rods wide, 
from the east abutment of White river 
falls bridge in Hanover, southeastward!}' 
till it intersects the road first mentioned 
and to be a branch thereof. 

Sec. 4, And be it further enact- 
ed, that if said proprietors and the own- 
ers of land over which the road may 
run shall disagree on the compensation 
to be made for said land and the build- 
ing or buildings thereon standing, and 
shall not agree in appointing persons to 
ascertain such compensation, the judg- 
es of the superior court of judicature, 
holden within and for the county in 
which said land lies, upon the applica- 
tion of said proprietors, or of the own- 
er or owners of such, reasonable notice 
of such application having been given 
by the applicants to the adverse party, 



snail appoint a committee who shall as- 
certain the same in the same way as 
compensation is made to owners of 
land for highways as usually laid out, 
& execution, on non-payment, against 
said proprietors, shall issue of course. 

Ski"'. 5. And be it further enact- 
ed, that ihc corporation 'may creel and 
fix such «\: so many gates or turnpikes 
upon and across said road as will be 
necessary & sufficient to collect the 
tolls and duties hereinafter granted to 
said company from all persons travel- 
ing in the same with horses, cattle, 
carts, and carriages. 

Sec. 6. And be it further enact- 
ed, that it shall and may be lawful for 
said corporation to appoint such and 
so many toll-gatherers, as they shall 
think proper, to collect and receive of 
and from all & every person or per- 
sons using said road the tolls and rates 
hereinafter mentioned ; and to pre- 
vent any person riding, leading or driv- 
ing any horses, cattle, hogs, sheep, 
sulkey-j-'chair, chaise, phaeton, coach, 
chariot, cart, wagon, sley, sled, or other 
carriage of burden or pleasure from 
passing through the said gates or turn- 
pikes, until they shall have respectively 
paid the same, that is to say, for every 
mile of said road, and so in proportion 
for a greater or less distance, or greater 
or smaller number of sheep, hogs, or 
cattle : viz., for every fifteen sheep or 
hogs, one cent ; for every fifteen cattle 
or horses, two cents ; for every horse 
and his rider or led horse, three fourths 
of one cent ; for every snlkey, chair, or 
chaise with one horse and two wheels, 
one and an half cents ; for every 
chariot, coach, stage- wagon, phaeton, 
or chaise, with two horses and four 
wheels, three cents ; for either of the 
carriages last mentioned with four 
horses, four cents ; for every other 
carriage of pleasure, the like sums, 
according to the number of wheels and 
;, °rses drawing the same ; for each 
<"-iri or other carriage of burthen with 
••-heels, drawn by one beast, one cent ; 
•or each wagon, cart, or other carriage 
°f burthen drawn by two beasts, one 
at *d an half cents ; 'if by more than 
[v <o beasts, one cent for each addition- 

al yoke of oxm or horse; for each 
sley drawn by one horse, three fourths 
of one cent; if drawn by two horses, 
one and an half rent ; and if by more 
than two horses, half a cent for every 
additional horse ; for each sled drawn 
by one horse, half of one cent ; for 
each sled drawn by two horses or a 
yoke of oxen, one cent ; and if by 
more than two horses or one yoke of 
oxen, one cent for each additional pair 
of horses or yoke of oxen ; and at 
all times when the toll-gatherer shall 
not attend his duty, the gates shall be 
left open ; and if any person shall 
with his carriage, team, cattle, or 
horses, turn out of said road to pass 
the sa-d turnpike gates, on ground 
adjacent thereto, said ground not being 
a public highway, with intent to avoid 
the payment of the toll due, by virtue 
of this act, such person shall forfeit and 
pay three times so much as the legal 
toll would have been, to be recovered 
by the treasurer of the said corporation, 
to the use thereof, in an action of debt 
or on the case ; provided that nothing 
in this act shall extend to entitle the 
said corporation to demand toll of any 
person who shall be passing with his 
horse or carriage to or from public 
worship, or with his horse, team or 
cattle, or on foot, to or from any mill, 
or on their common or ordinary busi- 
ness of family concerns, within the 
town where such person belongs. 

Sec. 7. And be it further enacted, 
that the said proprietors are hereby 
empowered to purchase, and hold in 
fee simple, so much land as will be 
necessary for said turnpike road, and 
the share or shares of any said proprie- 
tors may be transferred by deed duly 
executed & acknowledged, and re- 
corded by the clerk of said proprie- 
tors on their records ; and the share or 
shares of any proprietor may be sold 
by said corporation, on non-payment 
of assessment duly made agreeably to 
the bye laws that may be agreed upon 
by said corporation. 

Sec. S. And be it further enacted, 
that no toll shall be taken by said 
corporation for any mile of said road 
until six hundred dollars shall have 



been expended thereon, or a propor- 
tionate sura upon the whole number 
of miles, reckoning from said east of 
Connecticut river to said west bank of 
Merrimack river, where said road shall 

Sec. 9. And be it further enacted, 
that said corporation may be indicted 
for defect of repairs of said road, after 
the toll gates are erected, and fined in 
the same way and manner, as towns 
are by law fmeable, for suffering roads 
to be out of repair, and said fine ma) 
be levied on the profits and tolls arising 
or accruing to said proprietors. 

Sec. 10. Provided, nevertheless, 
and be it further enacted, that if said 
turnpike road shall, in any part, be 
the same with any highway now used, 
it shall not be lawful for said corpora- 
lion to erect any gate or turnpike on 
or across said part of the road, that 
now is used & occupied as a public 
highway, anything in this act to the 
contrary notwithstanding. 

Sec. 11. And be it further en- 
acted, that when said proprietors shall 
make it appear to the judges of the 
superior court of judicature, that 
they have expended said sum of 
six hundred dollars on each mile, 
or a proportionable sum as aforesaid, 
the proprietors shall have the liberty 
to erect the gates as aforesaid. 

Sec. 12. And be it further en- 
acted, that each of the towns through 
which said road shall be laid, shall 
have a right & be permitted to be- 
come an associate with the original 
proprietors in said corporation ; and 
in case of the refusal or neglect of 
any such town, any inhabitant or 
inhabitants thereof, shall have the 
same right, provided however, that 
such towns and inhabitants respectively 
shall be limited in said privilege of 
becoming associates to such number 
of shares, as shall bear the same pro- 
portion to the whole number of shares 
as the number of miles of said road, 
within such town shall bear to the 
whole number of miles of said road ; 
provided also, that such towns, and 
inhabitants, shall accept tire privilege 
hereby reserved, & become associates 

by making application lor that purpose 
to the directors or clerk of said corpo- 
ration, or in case no directors or clerk 
shall then be appointed, to the original 
proprietors, within three months aftej 
the public notice, hereinafter dire< ted, 
shall have been given by said corpora- 


And be it further en- 

acted, that said corporation shall 
immediately, after the rout of said 
road shall be marked out and estab- 
lished, cause public notice thereof to 
be given, by advertising the same. 
three weeks successively in the newspa- 
pers printed at Concord & Hanover. 

Sec. 14. And be it further en- 
acted, that at the end of every six 
years, after the setting up any toil 
gate, an account of the expenditures 
upon said road, and the profits arising 
therefrom, shall be laid before the leg- 
islature of this state under forfeiture 
of the privileges of this act in future ; 
and a right is hereby reserved to said 
legislature to reduce the rates of toil 
before mentioned, "as they may think 
proper, so however, that if the neat 
profit shall not amount to more than 
twelve per cent per annum, the said 
rates of toll shall not be reduced. 

Sec. 15. Provided nevertheless, 
and be it further enacted, that when- 
ever the neat income of the toll shall 
amount to the sums which the pro- 
prietors have expended on said road, 
with twelve per cent on such sums so 
expended from the times of their act- 
ual disbursement, the said road with all 
its rights, privileges and appurtenances 
shall revert to the State of New Hamp- 
shire and become the property thereof, 
to all intents and purposes ; anything in 
this act to the contrary notwithstanding. 

Sec. 16. And ' be it further en- 
acted, that, if in six years the said 
road shall not be completed, according 
to the provision of this act, every pari 
and clause thereof shall be null and 
void. Provided also, that the State of 
New Hampshire may, at anytime after 
the expiration of forty years from th 
passing of this act, repay the proprie- 
tors of said road the amount of the 
sums expended by them thereon, with 



twelve per cent per annum in addition 
thereto, deducting the toll actually 

received by the proprietors ; and in 
that case the said road, with all its 
privileges and appurtenances, shall, to 
fill intents and purposes, be the prop- 
erty of the State of New Hampshire ; 
anything in this act to the contrary 

Sec. 17. -And- be it further en- 
acted, that the directors and clerk of 
said corporation shall, whenever here- 
after required, by a committee appoint- 
ed for that purpose by the legislature 
of this state, exhibit to said committee, 
under oath if required, a true account 
of all expenditures upon said road, 
and all incidental charges appertaining 
to the same, and also a true account 
of the toll received up to the times of 
exhibiting such accounts ; under for- 
feiture of the privileges of this act in 

The first meeting of the corporation 
was duly warned by Elisha Payne, 
January 28, 1S01. The meeting was 
held at the dwelling house of Clap 
Sumner, " Innholder," in Lebanon, on 
March 24, 1 So 1, at ten a. m. Elisha 
Payne was chosen moderator, Benjamin 
J. Gilbert of Hanover, was chosen clerk, 
accepted his appointment, and was 
"sworn accordingly." The meeting 
was then adjourned to meet at the 
same place on Tuesday, April 14, 1801, 
at ten a. m. The record of the ad- 
journed meeting is as follows : 

Lebanon, Tuesday, April 14, 1S01. 

The meeting was opened according 
to adjournment. 

Voted that the rights and privileges 
of the proprietors of the Fourth Turn- 
pike Road in New Hampshire be 
divided into four hundred shares. 

Voted that said shares be numbered 
from number one to four hundred, in- 

Voted that the said shares so num- 
bered be apportioned among the four 
present proprietors as follows : viz., 
that Elisha Payne have and hold all 
'die shares numbered from one to one 
hundred both inclusive ; that Russell 
Freeman have and hold all the shares 

numbered from one hundred to two 

hundred the latter inclusive ; that 

i Constant Storrs have & hold all the 

shares numbered from two hundred to 

three hundred the latter inclusive ; and 
that Ben J. Gilbert have & hold all 
the shares numbered from three hun- 
dred co four hundred the latter inclus- 
ive ; and that said Payne, Freeman, 
Storrs «x: Gilbert each have full right 
& authority to sell & convey their 
respective shares numbered and appor- 
tioned to them respectively as before 
mentioned, under all the reservations, 
limitations and conditions in the origi- 
nal grant contained. 
. Voted that there be assessed upon 
I the shares aforesaid the sum of six 
hundred dollars, that is to say, one dol- 
lar & fifty cents upon each share, to 
be paid on or before the first day of 
September next, and that if any propri- 
etor shall neglect to pay the sum so as- 
sessed on his share or shares by the 
time aforesaid, the share or shares of 
such proprietor shall be sold at public 
vendue, and such vendue shall be ad- 
vertised six weeks previous to the day 
of sale. 

Voted that there be appointed a treas- 
urer, to hold his office during the pleas- 
ure of this corporation, to be under 
bonds with a surety or sureties to the 
satisfaction of the corporation, in the 
sum of five thousand dollars and under 
oath faithfully to perforin the duties of 
his office, and that the bond be lodged 
wit li the clerk. 

Voted & chose Major Constant 
Storrs treasurer. 

Voted that the clerk be directed to 
procure to be printed three hundred 
blank forms for deeds for transfer of 
shares, according to such form as he 
shall desire. 

Voted that this meeting be adjourn- 
ed to Friday, the 29th day of May next, 
then to meet at this place at eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon." 

The record of the shares as distrib- 
uted, and the names of persons to 
! whom certificates were given of particu- 
I lar shares by the directors, is as follows : 
No. 1 to 10, David Rough, 
11 to 20, William Johnson, 
21 to 30, Eiias Ciutis, 



No. 3 i, 

Samuel Lathrop, 

No. j 66 to 

1 75, 

not assigned, 

3 2 



Simeon Feck, 

176 to 


Edward Cults, 

34 > 

Hobart Estabrook, 

1 So & 


Peter Coffin, 


Ephraim Wood, 

1S2 to 


John Langdon, 


Zen as Alden, 

1 87 to 


Samuel Ham, 


Richard Aid rich, 

190 to 


Eliphalet Ladd, 


Edmund Freeman, Jr. 

j 94 & 


Reuben Siiapley, 


James Crocker, 

196 & 


Samuel Elliot, 


' Stephen Kendrick, 

1 98 to 


John Pierce, 


Joseph Wood, 

201 & 


Isaac Chandler, 


Ira Gates, 

203 to 


Am as a Kilburn, 


Thomas Waterman, 

208 to 


Steph. Mack »Sc Danl. 


Stephen Billings, 

G. Mack, 


Edward Bosworth, 


Andrew Bowers, 


Oliver Ellis, 

224 to 


Timo. Dire, Tunr., 

4 7, 

Elijah Reed, 

226 to 


Stephen Mac'k & 


David Hough, 

Dank G. Mack, 




John Wheelock 

231 to 


Jedediah Strong & 




Richard Lang, 

James Little," 


James Ralston, 

238 to 


Jedediah Strong, 


Wm. Woodward, 

241 to 


Peter Miller, 


Benj. Gilbert, 

246 to 


Roswell Olcott & Jo- 




James Little, 

seph Loveland, 


Daniel Stickney, 

263 to 


R. Olcott & J. Love- 


Nathan Jewett, 



Clark Aidrich, ■ 

270 to 


Amos Petti ngell, 


Abijah Chandler, 

275 to 


not assigned, 


Jonathan Bosworth, 

2S2 to 


Caleb Lovering, 


Thomas Hough, 

293 to 


Saml. Robie 6c Philip 




Arthur Latham, 





Stephen Kimball, 

298 to 


not assigned, 

7 7. 

Amos A. Brewster, 

301 & 

3 02 ' 

James Rundlett, 


Benoni Dewey, 

303 to 


Nathl. A. Haven, 


Levi Parks, 

306 & 


William Cutter, 


Mills Olcott, 

30S to 

3 IO > 

Thos. Sheafe, 


James Wheelock, 

3 11 , 

Theodore Furber, 


Daniel Hough, 

312 & 

3 X 3, 

John Llaven, 


Levi Sargent, 

314 & 

3 l 5> 

Thomas Brown, 


Beriah Abbot, 

316 & 

3 l h 

A. R. Cutter, 


Benjamin Thompson, 

318 & 

3 T 9> 

Thomas Martin, 




Thomas Thompson, 

320 & 


John Goddard, 




Jason Downer, 

322 & 


Robt.Acl. Tread well, 




Richd., Jr., & Ebenr. 

324 to 



John S. Sherburne, 
Joseph El a, 




Richard, Jr., and Eb- 

3 2 9> 

Geo. Long, 

en Kimball, 

33° & 


Jon a. Goddard, 




James Roife, 

332 to 


William Sheafe, 

IJ 3 



Henry Haven, 

335 & 

33 6 > 

Mathew S. Marsh, 



Benj. Swett, 


William Garland, 

116 to 


not assigned, 


Mark S'mes, 




Eli as Lyman, 


Samuel Hill, 




Roswell Olcott & Jo- 


Nathaniel Dean, 

seph Loveland, 

341 to 


Joseph Haven, 




Pv. Olcott & [. Love- 

344 to 



John Wendell, 
Edward J. Long, 



348 to 350, James Sheafe, 

551 <\r 352, bamuel rsoardman, 
}^^, Rtehard II ait, 

354 & 355, Benjamin Briefly, 
356. Joshua Blake, 

357 & 358, J ere in 'a'n Libbey, 
359 to 3 {) E Jacob Sheafe, 
362, Henry E. LangdOn, 

363 to ^66, Joseph Whipple, 
367 & 36S, Thomas Elwyn, 
369 & 370, Daniel Austin, 

371, Samuel Jones, 

372, William. Jones, 

373, John Davenport, 
374 & 375, Jeremiah Mason, 
376, Stephen Pearee, 
377 & 37s, J. Fisher, 

379 & 3#°; Nathl. Adams, 


3 8 4, 


3SSt0 3 97; 


Clement Storer, 
Nat hi. Folsom, 
Charles Cutis, 
John Badger, 
Geo. Cults. 
Thomas Si rues, 
Robert McClary, 
Stephn. Herri man, 
John Harris, 
Elisha Aldrich, 
Somersby Pearson. 
An examination of this list shows how 
largely the people at Portsmouth, at 
Hanover, and at Lebanon were inter- 

The shareholders at HopVintOn were 
headed by Judge Harris. Herriman, 
or Harrimam also resided there. 

The list shows, with the exception of 
Bowers and a few others in Salisbury, 
how few shareholders there were in the 
outset along the line from Boscawen 
ferry to Lebanon. 

The next step was to provide for lo- 
cating the road. This was, if possible, 
more delicate and difficult than the 
raising of funds. The feelings of the 
rival interests along the line were very 
strong. With the exception of that 
part of the road from Fifield's mills to 
horse-shoe pond in Andover, a distance 

• of about three miles, there was likely to 
, be a sharp and bitter controversy about 
i the location of the entire route. Strange 
I as it may seem. Roger Perkins and Gem 
Davis at this time had not discovered 
how vita! it was for the interest of that sec- 
tion that the turnpike should run from 
the Potter Place to Hopkinton. Through 
their efforts, mainly, this route was aft« r- 
warcis laid out by order of the court, and 
partially built. It was overthrown by 
Ezekiel Webster, who never forgot the 
hostility of the people of Hopkinton to- 
wards him in a celebrated case, upon the 
I ground mainly that for a portion of the 
way it ran along or over old highways. 
The corporators in the outset deter- 
mined to select people outside the state 
to make the location in order to avoid 
the huckstering and log-roiling which 
had made so much trouble in other 
cases, and which attenvards caused so 
much feeling in the location of rail- 
roads. Accordingly at the adjourned 
meeting. May 29, 1801, the following 
votes were passer! : 

"Voted that Genl. James Whitelaw of 
Ryegate, Genl. Elias Stevens of Royal- 
ton, and Major Micah Barron of Brad- 
ford, all in the state of Vermont, be a 
committee to survey and lay out the 
rout for the fourth turnpike road in 
New Hampshire, if the sum of three 
hundred dollars shall be raised by vol- 
untary subscription to pay the expense 
of laying out the same, provided [that] 
sum be subscribed by the 6th day of 
July next. 

Voted that any monies subscribed by 
individuals for the purpose of defraying 
the expense of laying out the rout of 
said road be remitted to those who sub- 
scribe the same, out of any monies in 
the treasury, whenever the rout of said 
road shall be laid out. & permanently 

Adjourned to Monday, the 6th day 
of July next, then to meet at this place 
at eleven o'clock in the forenoon." 





There lies before me a time-worn i 
book, which was carried by a pntriot ! 
soldier through two campaigns of the j 
revolution. The covers are of boards I 
covered with sheepskin, and first did \ 
service in enclosing the pages of the ! 
spelling book prepared by Thomas Oil- j 
worth, schoolmaster. He was an an- 
thority in the last century, as Webster \ 
is in this. Its possessor, Peter Kim- 1 
ball, one hundred and five years ago, 
tore out the printed pages, inserted 
blank leaves, and made it his diary, 
which I reproduce with its original spell- i 
ing, with notes explanatory of some j 
things which otherwise might be ob- | 
sen re. ! 

Capt. Peter Kimball was born in , 
Bradford. Mass.. but removed to Bos- 
cawen in 1765, when he was twenty-six 
years of age. He was a man of strong 
character and at once became a lead- 
ing citizen. He was an ardent patriot, j 
and was ready to do his part in the | 
struggle for independence. The diary ; 
gives the distances between Bos- 
cawen and White Plains, near the city ' 
of New York, in the daily marches of 
himself and comrades to join Washing- ■ 
ton's army after the evacuation of New : 
York, resulting in the battle of W r hite 

Capt. Kimball never had the advan- 
tages of an education. His spelling is ; 
phonographic, but that does not detract j 
from the value of the writing. 

The diary is prefaced by the follow- 1 
ing list of towns on the line of march, 
where he passed the nights : 

"An account of our march Day by 
Day from Boscawen. 




Haifa rd ( Harvard ) , 

Wossestcr, 20 

Brookfield, 16J 

Palmer, 1 6 

8 miles. | 

l S 

J 9 

Winsor Goshen (Windsor 

and Goshen), 21 

Hartford, 16 

Wollingford, 20 

New haven, 20 

Stratford, 16 

fareneld, 12 

Stamford. 14 

Horse neck, 6 

New Rocher (Roche lie), 14 
White plane, 9 

New Castle, 1 

There is no date to show when he 
was appointed captain, but he was serv- 
ing in that capacity in September, 1776, 
as will be seen by the context. 
The diary thus begins : 
''sept 16, 1776, in consequence of 
orders Recevd this Day from Col Stick- 
ney [of Concord] to Rais and Equip 
seven men to march to concord on the 
twentieth of this instant sept, the com- 
pany was Raisd the 17th & after the 
order was Read and the incouragement- 
known the invitation was given yt if 
there was Any man or men yt would go 
thay ware Desired to make it manifest, 
none semed to be willing. But at Length 
Lieut Jackman, Ensign Ames, Sargent 
plummer, dark Noyes, [clerk of the 
company], simeon Jackman, moses 
manuel and myself agreed to go, Sim- 
eon Jackman being hired by Saml Jack- 
man & Danl Richards [ali citizens of 

frvday ye 26th we marched to Con- 
cord and past muster. 

Saterday 21 we stayed at Concord. 
Receivd our Billiten at Evening. 

Sunday 22 we marcht to Robert 
mac gragors [Amoskeag], and I Paid 
for 8 mugs of syder for 8 men. jQ o — 
2 s. o p. 

Monday 23 we marcht S mile and 
Breakfast, from thence to HolSis and 

tuesday 24 we marcht to Harfard 
and Loged. 


fryday 27 we marcht to woster and 
Loged at Joneses. 

thursday 26 we marcht to brookfield 
& Lodged. 

fry day ?n we marcht to Palmer & 

Saterday 28 we marcht to Winsor 
Goshen and Loged. 

Sunday 29 we marcht to hartford & 
Loged there. 

munday 30 we stayd at hartford. 

October 1 we marcht to wolingford 
and Loged thare. 

wensday 2d we marcht to new haven 
and Loged thare. 

thursday 3d we marcht to Stratford 
& thare Loged and saw John Flanders 
on our way [of BoscawenJ. 

fryday 4 we marcht to fairfield and 
Loged by the sound. 

Saterday 5 we marcht to Stamford 
ami Loged thare. 

Sunday 6 we stayed at Stamford & 
Drawed alowance and went to meeting 
in the afternoon & heard mr wells 

monday 7th we had no duty to Do 
but walked the streets. at evening 
Dravvd half pound of powder 16 Bawls 
at the meeting house and thare was a 
gard of 1.0 men out of our company. 

tuesday we drawd allowance for two 
days cc went & got some oysters for 

Wensday ye 9 we stayed at Stamfard 
<x heard a heavy fire at York. 

thursday 10th we stayed at Stamfard 
&: walkd the streets. 

fryday nth. a little Rain last Night, 
iair morning and in the afternoon we 
marcht to Greeriege (Greenwich) & 
stayed thare. 

Saterday 12 we. marcht to Stamfard 
again and Loged thare. 

Sunday 13th orders came to march 
to horseneck & Loged thare. 

munday 14th we marcht to New Ro- 
cher & Loged thare. 

tuesday 15th we stayed at New Ro- 
chel & went to see Nat Burbank. 

wensday 16 we stayed at N Roehel 
and about midnight was Alarmed. 

thursday 17 we marcht to White 
plane & Loged thare. 

fryday iSth I went for teage. 

Saterday 19th we was Allarmed. it 

was sd the Lite horse was on thar way 
to white planes in sight, the Rigement 
was collected together and under arms 
some time. 

Sunday 20 we pitcht our tents. 

monday 21 I was called for teage 
[fatigue]. Jack man went in my room 
ec I helpt pitch the tent over ec after- 
noon thare was a detachment of about 
600 men sent to ingage the enemy at 
marnick (Mamaroneck) 8 out of our 
company, the next morning all return- 
ed but Sim Jackmari. they atackted 
the enemy about 10 O clock at Night. 
took about 36 pisoners. 

tuesday 22 about 10 clock Jackman 
came in & there was a gallos ordered 
by Genl Starling (Lord Sterling) to 
hang three of the pisoners at 12 o'- 
clock. 1 

wensDay 23 I mounted the Q. G. 
(Headquarter guard.) stood 10 hours 
in 24. 

Thursday 24. this morning we Here 
that Last Night our People Had a 
scrimagc with the Hessians & it was sd 
kikl 10 and Drove the RJegt. 

friday 25th I went on the picket & 
laid on our arms on a hill about 2 miles 
from the camp. 

Saterday 25th the gard was Dismist 
about 12 o'clock, in the afternoon I 
saw John Hale [citizen of Boscawen]. 

Sunday 26 I was of off duty, took care 
of Jackman. made him some pancakes. 

monday 27. in the morning was 
Alarmed and struck our tents about 10 
Oclock. we marcht to the Loins 
(lines), about 12 Oclock in the Day 
they atackted our Loins on the Right 
wing &: Drove our People and marcht 
on to a hill in Plain sight of our Loins 
in the front in whear I was Placed, at 
night we Lay on our arms. 2 

tuesday 28 we Lay on our arms, the 
enemy Appeard all Round, on every 
hill, the JJiflemen Afiring on there gards. 
one of the Riflemen kild this day & at 
night our gard was Alarmed, another 
fired and kild Capt Buntin. 

wensday 29th we moved a little more 
to the Right wing & Lay on our aims 
& just before night we moved Back to 
our Loins and took our post. 



at Night we Retreated 
about a mile & \ & Lay 

:st we 1, -V on our arms & 
from the lines 
on our arms. 

friday Nov i we was ordered to march 
& we marcht about \ of a mile & Re- 
turned to the same ground. About 10 
o'clock we was alarmd. the evening we 
marcht to the Loins we left & our peo- 
ple fired on them & they Retreated 3 

Saterday 2d I went on teage [fa- 

Sundy 3d General Sullivan wanted 
about 200 men to go with him as agard 
to see what he could Discover of the 
enemy, we marcht about 3 mile & 
Discovered the enemy, he went with 
his spy glass & garling [bag for provis- 
ions] &3 men went with me to a- house 
& the enemy Discovered us & fired. 
Our officers set us in a Battle Ray. we 
waited some time and then Retreated 
and marcht home. 

monday 4 there came orders for the 
scout to Do no Duty ec we washt our 

tuesday 5 the general gard was cald 
for But it was his pleasure not to go & 
so a part of the gard was Dismist. so 

1 Return sd to my tent & there was a 
Revue of arms and amunision & at 
Night the scouting party was called for 
& I went to the general, stayed about 

2 hours & Dismist. Lay on our arms, 
wensday 6th we turned out before 

Day and went to the Larum post & 
about 8 o'clock there was a scout of 1 1 
men cald for & I went for one & 
we marcht to the white plains to our 
old Loins and found the enemy Re- 
treated & vewed the ground where the 
battle was fought the 27 of October & 
found whear they buried there Dead, 
vewed there encampment and followed 
them about 2 mile & made no Discov- 
ery of them & Returned home & slept 
in our tents. 

thursday 7th I was off Duty, this 
Day about 3 o'clock we marcht on to 
the parade & the general vewed us. at 
night Dismist & ordered us to parade 
at 8 o'clock next morning. 

fryday 8th the Rigement mustered at 
8 o'clock & marcht to the generals in 
sub division into the held & had a sham 

lite, general Sullivan commanded our 
brigade, ordered to appear in the he'd 
at 2 o'clock next Day. 

Saterday 9th orders for the Rigement 
to muster at 2 o'clock, we mustered 
& marcht into the field by grand Divis- 
ion, at night Dismist. 

Sunday 10th I went on teage. built 
some breastwork. 

monday r r we built a chimney to 
our tent *Sc at night it Raind. it was a 
coald storm. 

tuesday 12th the Rigement was or- 
dered to parade and ensign hecock 
[Rickock] pickt 6 men to go with him 
a scout towards New Rochel. moses 
manuel and I went with him. we went 
about S mile, we Discovered the ene- 
mvs fires for 4 miie m Length. — 

Retured about 


went into 

house built a fire & went to sleep, the 
Next morning got some sass such as 
winter squash &. cabig ec Returned to 
our tents. 

wensday 13th off of Duty, this Day 
I Recevd a Letter from my wife, 

thursday 14th about 1 o'clock en- 
sign hecock with 7 men of whom I was 
one went a scout Down towards King's 
bridge about 15 mile & about 12 at 
Night surprised & took a Hessian & a 
tory negro & brought them in. 

friday 15th we brought in our pison- 
ers and Delivered them to general Lee. 

Saterday 16th Lieut Crumly (?) & I 
went to North Castle to see brother 

Sunday 17th News that fortWashen- 
ton was taken by the brittons yesterday 
& at night I went on the picket. 

monday iSth we was ordered into 
the held <S: was trained by Col Duglas. 

tuesday 19th settled our accounts 
Respecting the mess & in the afternoon 
washt my shurt. 

Wensday 20th I went on a scout, 
brought in 31 cattle 5 colts 68 sheep 
44 hogs to the main gard. 

Thursdey 21st a lowery Day. 

fryday 22 still lowery. 

saterday 23 still lowery. the gen 
eral sent for a scout. I went but *t 
Raind &: we were dismist. 

Sundy 24 Last night cilly Rainy ^ 
about noon a scout was cald foi & l 



ivent \)osvn to East Chester <>c took one 
t Royce's men from thence to Dob's 

• rrj • 
monday 25 th Returnd to our earn p. 
tuesday 26 Rainy Day. we Loge in 

cur camp. 

Wednesday 27th still Rainy & cold. 
baldin (Baldwin) went to Pied quarters 
with the muster Reals in order to git 
ear wages. 

thursday 28111 there come orders for 
22 men to go to Dobb's ferry Tor a gard. 
Anniah bohonan (Bohonan, of Salis- 
bury) & 1 went with ensign Dunkin 
about 2 mile & Loged. 

friday 29 we was down to Dobb's fer- 
ry vS: Returnd to John Hammons & 
Loged there. 

Saterday 30th we marcht to our camp. 

Sunday December 1st we march t 
from New Castle to Stamford on our 
journey home. Left Ames & moses 
(Moses Manuel) about 5 miles from 
the camp & Loged 3 on this side of 
Stamford town. 

Mondy ye 2d we marcht about 3 
mile this side of Stratford ferry ee Loged. 

tuesday 3d we marcht to wollingford 
&: Loged thare. 

wensday 4th we marcht to Hartford 
East and Loged thare. 

Thursday 5 we marcht to Ashford. 
Left Samuel Gerrish on the way to Cov- 
entry & we Loged at Ashford. 

fryday ye 6 we marcht to Oxford &: 
Loged thare. 

Saterday yth we marcht to Wooster 
: thare 1 met William Jack man with 
j my horse. from thence I Rode to 
Chockset and Loged thare. 

Sunday Sth I rode to Merimack & 
Loged lii are. 

raon lay 9th. I Rode to Boscawen to 
my own house ec Loged thare." 

1. Tin 

Quite li 

, \ - V 

j probubi 

i 2. Til 

A 1 

test, j 
sand, ti 
with the skirra 
tiie American: 
Bronx, and ta ! 
svest of Whin 
■Jmu, and was 
wore repulsed 

1 clue to the crime of the prisoners. 
. were Tories. The section around 
5 peopled with Tories. It is not 
liey were executed. 
ot White Plains was a severe con- 
ish numbered nearly thirty tliou- 
icans nineteen thousand. It began 
istiing, as stated by Capt. Kirn -ah, 

retreating belaud the little river 
:iug a position on Chatterton hill, 

1/iains. J.Io\ve advanced on the 
severely hand! ?d. The Hessians 
with a loss of between three and 

four hundred. Only a small portion of either army 
j was engaged. Howe recalled id- noo} s intending 
1 :o make a tfank attack the next day. Washington 
1 retreated three miles and took up a much stronger 
i position. A heavy storm sec in, and when ic De- 
; came fair Howe recounoitered the new position, 
i but did not dare to attack, ami retreated inglori- 
j ously to Xew York. Capt. Kimball was on the left 
1 of tiie American line, under Sullivan, and was not. 
j in the thick ol the fighl . 

Alexander Hamilton, then a very young man, 
commanded a battery which was effective in 
the repulse of the British. The American brigades 
J in the tight wore commanded by Putnam, MeDou- 
J gal and Col. Smallwood; the British by Cut. Leslie 
' and Gen. lihal l'ne British greatly outnumbered 
I the Americans, but the latter had advantage of 
j position. 

i The diary of Capt. Kimball is exceedingly yalu- 
! able, in that u exhibits the readiness of the people 
: to respond to the call, after the iir.-r outburst of pa- 
• triotism had cooled; also because it brings vividly 
before us the )o\ii? marches from Central New 
, Hampshire to New York, each soldier carrying his 
provisions, gun and knapsack. Ihere were no de 
j serters. Each s >ldier marched as in duty bound, 
making no halts by the way. When Howe re- 
treated the militia was disbanded, and they return 
fed in the same orderly mauuer to their homes. 



Of the multitudes of heroes and her- 
oines who sleep in forgotten graves, the 
one whose name stands at trie head of 
this article is not the least. Though 
Mary Woodwell occupied no exalted 
position in life, her story is one of thrill- 
ing interest. Her capture by the sav- 
ages, her toilsome journey in the wil- 
derness, her long exile from family and 

home, the delays and difficulties attend- 
ing her redemption, the checkered ca- 
reer which fell to her lot after her re- 
lease from the Indians, and the great 
age to which she attained, all unite to 
give to her humble life a strong roman- 
tic coloring. 

The town of Hopkinton, in Merri- 
mack county, was granted by the Mas- 



sachusetts government, in 1735. to P r0 " 
prietors who lived mostly in Hopkinton, 
of that province — a town lying some 
thirty miles southwesterly of Boston. 
Settlements were commenced in "New 
Hopkinton " (as the town in New 
Hampshire was called), about the year 
1740. Among the first settlers of tins 
excellent township were David Wood- 
well and his family, from Hopkinton, 
Mass. Woodwell selected his lot, made 
his clearing and erected his rude house, 
at the base of the northwesterly spur of 
Putney's hill, and about two thirds of a 
mile from where Contoocook village 
now stands. This place is found on a 
highway leading from the main road 
through town, to Tyler's bridge. It is 
but a few rods distant from the main 
road, and is very near the present resi- 
dence of Eben Morrill. Silence reign- 
ed, at the time of WoodwelPs settle- 
-ment, all over that region, for the wood- 
man's axe had not there been heard. 

In 1746, a line drawn from Roches- 
ter to Canterbury, Boscawen and Hop- 
kinton, thence through Hillsborough to 
Keene and Swanzey, would mark the 
frontier wave of settlement in New 
Hampshire. The whole region north 
of this line, with the exception of small 
openings at Westmoreland and Charles- 
town, was a gloomy wilderness and a fit 
lurking-place for savages. The people 
all along this frontier, at the period 
mentioned, were in imminent danger. 
The French and Indian war was in 
progress, and the red men were on the 
war-path. They struck right and left. 
They destroyed the crops, the cattle, 
and the horses of the English settlers. 
They slew and captured persons at 
Charlestown, Swanzey, Hinsdale, Bos- 
cawen, Concord, Rochester, and else- 
where. Often did the war-whoop "wake 
the sleep of the cradle." 

According to the records of that 
town, Mary Woodwell was born in Hop- 
kinton, Mass., April 30, 1730. She 
came to New Hopkinton with her fath- 
er's family. On Tuesday, the 2 2d day 
of April, 1746, trie Indians, who had 
been lurking about the Contoocook' 
river, near the mouth of the Amesbury, 
for several days, made a descent, armed 

j with muskets, tomahawks and knives, 
j upon the garrison or fort which had 
I been erected by Woodwell and Bur- 
j bank, close by the house of the form- 
I er, and the cellar of which garrison 
j is still visible. They captured eight 
j persons while in their beds : viz., Mr. 
and Mrs. David Woodwell, two of their 
sons (Benjamin and Thomas), and their 
only daughter, Mary ; also, Samuel Bur- 
bonk and his two sons, Caleb and Jon- 

The dwelling house of the Burbank 
family was situated on the easterly side 
of what is now the Warner and Con- 
cord main road, and nearly opposite 
the late residence of James H. Emer- 
son. The outlines of the old cellar still 
exist, but no house has occupied the 
site for many years. On the morning 
of their captivity, one of the Burbaiiks 
left the fort before the rest of the in- 
mates were up, leaving the door un- 
fastened, and went to feed the cattle in 
the stockade, which stood on the op- 
posite side of the Tyler's bridge road. 
The Indians, who were lying in am- 
bush observing every movement, in- 
stantly sallied forth, secured this man, 
rushed upon the unfastened door of the 
fort, and took all the inmates, except a 
soldier who effected an escape, and 
Burbank's wife, who sprang to the cel- 
lar, and turning an empty barrel over 
her head, eluded her pursuers. Dur- 
ing the squabble, Mary's mother, who 
was seized by a sturdy Indian, wrested 
from his side a long knife with which 
she was in the act of running him 
through, when other members of the 
party, fearing the consequences of such 
an act, caused her to desist. But she 
secured the deadly weapon, and before 
they commenced their march, managed 
to throw it into the well, from which 
it was taken after the captives return- 
ed. When it was seen that Mary ob- 
stinately refused to submit to captivity, 
another Indian presented a musket to 
her breast with the evident intention of 
firing, when the chief oi the conquer- 
ing squad, by the name of Pernio, who 
had received kindness from her father's 
family, instantly interfered an 1 saved 
her life, taking her for his own captive. 



; rriving in Canada, Penno sold her 
I , i squaw of another family. 

;:• the provincial council at Ports- 
mouth, Thursday, April 24th, "His Ex- 
eiiency acquainted the council that he 
: td received an express giving an ac- 

unt of the Indians falling upon two 
families at a place called Hopkinton, 
and had captured eight persons, and 
then asked the advice of the council 
fthat step he should take.'* 

"Upon which the council unanimous- 
ly gave it as their opinion that His Ex- 
cellency should cause to be inlisted or 
impressd 50 men to march immedi- 
ately to Pemidgwasset and the Pond, 
&C, for fourteen days." 

Under this instruction, Gov. Penning 
Wentworth ordered a detachment of 
horse to proceed to the "seat of war." 
Capt. John Goffe was directed to raise 
fifty men. In a short time his men 
were raised, chiefly in Portsmouth, and 
he was on the march. He arrived at 
Penacook (Concord), early on the 
morning of Saturday, May 2. In the. 
meantime the savages were at work, 
and "the woods were full of them." 
They fell upon a body ot men near Clay 
hill in Boscawen, and killed Thomas 
Cook, and a colored man named Cae- 
sar, who was the slave of Rev. Mr. 
Stevens. This negro was a strong, mus- 
cular man, and he made a brave fight, 
but lost his life. Another of the party 
was Elisha Jones, a soldier. He was 
taken captive, carried to Canada and 
sold to the French. He died while a 
prisoner. This attack on the party at 
Clay hiil was made on Monday, May 4. 
The news reached Penacook that even- 
ing, and we find Capt. Goffe at mid- 
night writing to Gov. Wentworth as fol- 
lows : 

;< May 5, 1746. 
Hay it please your Excellency : 

I got to Penuycook on Saturday early 
in the morning, and notwithstanding I 
sent the Monday after I left the bank 
(Strawberry bank), yet. my bread was 
not baked but there wasabout 250 weight 
baken, which supplied 20 men, which I 
sent to Canterbury as soun as i got here, 
and I kept the baker and several soldiers 
to baking all Sabhath day and purposed 
to inarch on Monday as soon as possible, 
hut about midnight two men came 

down from Contoocook (Boscawen), and 
brought the unhappy news of two men 
being killed, ami the :' men that came 
down told me that they saw the 2 men 
lye in their blood, and one more that was 
missing, and hearing that I was here, de- 
sired me to assist in making search ; so 
that I am with ail expedition going up to 
Contoocook. and will do what J ran to 
see the enemy. The Indians are all about 
our frontiers. 1 think there never was 
more need of soldiers than now. It is 
enough to make one's blood cold in one's 
veins to see our fellow creature- killed 
and taken upon every quarter, and if we 
cannot catch them here J hope the Gen. 
eral Court will give encouragement to go 
and give them the same play at home. 
The white man that is killed is one Thom- 
as Cook and the other is Mr. Stevens, the 
minister's negro. These are found, and 
Jones, the soldier, is not found. They 
having but a few soldiers at the fort have- 
not as yet sought much for him. 1 am 
going with all possible expedition and 

Your Excellency's most humble and 
most dutiful 

Subject and Servant, 

John Goffe. 
Pennyeook. about 2 of the clock in the 
•morning. May 5, 174G." 

Capt. Goffe kept on the scout for 
several weeks, but the Indians knew 
their trail, and they all got safely away 
with their captives. 

Several other companies were sent to 
the frontier during this season of gener- 
al distress. Capt. Ladd was ordered 
out for three months. He marched 
from Exeter on the 14th day of July, 
reached Concord on the 19th, and 
marched to Canterbury on the 21st. 
On the 23d Capt. Eadd marched his 
command to Boscawen, on the 24th to 
" Blackwater falls," on the 25th to 
"Almsbury pond,*' probably meaning 
the present Tucker's pond near the foot 
of Kearsarge mountain. From here 
the company marched down to Ames- 
bur}- river in Number One (Warner), 
and down that sparkling stream to the 
Contoocook, crossing which they pro- 
ceeded to a place " called Hopkinton 
and there camped about the further 
end of the town and that fort where there 
were eight persons taken and captivat- 
ed, but we could make no late discov- 
ery there, then we marched down about 
two miles towards Rumford tc another 
garrison where the people were desert- 



cd from and there made a halt. Then 
scouted round a field, then went into 
the garrison and in a cellar found a 
mare and two coils, which we took them 
out of the cellar alive." These horses 
were almost starved to death.. They 
belonged to the white settlers, but had 
been confined where they were found 
(it is supposed), by the Indians. The 
garrison here spoken of, and which will 
be mentioned further along in this ar- 
ticle, stood on Putney's hill, and the 
old ruins are distinctly seen to this day. 
That this war, on the part of the 
province, against the "Indian Enemy," 
was meant to be a sanguinary one, the 
following extract from a vote of the 
House of May 7, 1746, will show : 

** and for farther Incouragement as a 
Bounty, yt they be allowd for each male 
Indian they shall kill within said term of 
Time of any of ye Tribes of Indians yt 
war had been declared against by this 
Government, upward of twelve year old 
& scalp produced, ye sum of Seventy 
Pounds & Captives Seventy eight Pounds 
fifteen shillings and for Females and oth- 
ers under ye age of twelve years old kilid 
and scalp produced, thirty seven Pounds 
ten shillings & captives thirty nine 
Pounds five skills. v 

During this summer of 1746, the 
depredations of the enemy were so fre- 
quent and so bloody that many of the 
weaker frontier settlements were aban- 
doned. Such was the case with those 
at Hopkinton, Hillsborough, Antrim, 
and several other towns. These places 
were left again to the sole occupancy 
of the wild beasts and the red men. 
Settlements were not resumed in Hop- 
kinton till about 1755. 

The Hopkinton prisoners, on the day 
of their capture, were hurried away to 
the northward, the Indians, in their 
flight, burning die rude saw-mill at what 
is now Davisvilie, in Warner, which mill 
had been erected by the proprietors of 
that township in 1740. Their line of 
march was up through Number One, 
along the valley of the Amesbury, some 
five or six miles, thence through the pres- 
ent Sutton and New London, skirting 
the easterly shore of Little Sunapee and 
the westerly shore of Mascoma Lake in 
Enfield, — thence on to the Connecticut 
river, and still onward to the St. Fran- 

cis, which rises in the great dividing 
ridge between the province of Quebec 
and the stale of New Hampshire, flows 
in a northwesterly direction, through a 
charming country, and fails into the 
broad part of the river St. Lawrence, 
where it takes the name of Lake St. 
Peter. At the outlet of the river St. 
Francis stood the Indian hamlet to 
which our heroine was destined, and 
which was the headquarters of the St. 
Francis tribe. This long march, through 
the dense forests, and often through 
deep snows and over swollen and tur- 
bulent streams, was made in twelve 
days. It tested the powers of endur- 
ance of all the prisoners, and especially 
of the females of the parly, alary 
Woodwell, at this time, was a girl of 
sixteen. She is described as of medi- 
um size, with blue eye<, and a light, del- 
icate complexion. She was said to be 
very lady-like and pleasing in her man- 
ners. In after life she was a woman 01 
strong religious convictions and of a 
high order of intelligence. 

The Indians, on this march, allowed 
but one meal a day, and that night. At 
the end of their day's journey, they 
would select a suitable place for an en- 
campment, build a fire and cook a 
hearty meal, when they had sufficient 
material for it. Their food was mostly 
meat. At one encampment, being short 
of game, they cooked a dog. Mary's 
master, seeing that she refused to taste 
it, very kindly took his gun and soon 
shot a woodpecker, which was prepar- 
ed for her supper. The red-skins could 
eat anything, and they would often re- 
main at the table till nearly midnight. 
At dawn of day they would commence 
their weary march. 

On arriving at St. Francis, Penno sold 
Mary to a squaw of another family, 
though living at the same settlement on 
the shore of St. Peter. Jonathan Bur- 
bank was also held at St. Francis, but 
not in the family with Mary. The oth- 
er six captives were carried on to Que- 
bec, where Samuel Burbank, the father, 
and Mary WoodwelFs mother, died of 
the yellow fever, in. prison. Mary's 
father and brothers, after their release, 
made many unsuccessful efforts for her 



r edemptio n « ' ne father made several I 
nirneys, on loot, to St. Francis, to so- 
ire her freedom; but the hardened | 
squaw who held her in bondage was in- j 
Ac. She refused to let die cap- ! 
live go short of " her weight in silver." 
.Moreover, Mary was told by her mis- 
tress that if she intimated to her father 
3 desire to go home, she should never 
see the lace of one of her family again. 
David Woodwell, after the second un- 
successful effort for the redemption oi 
his daughter, came back to Hopkinton, 
Mass., which had then become his tem- 
porary home, and made a renewed en- 
deavor to raise money. He went to 
Chelmsford, where some of his early 
acquaintances had settled, and his ap- 
peal to that town was not in vain, as 
the following extract from its records 
will show : 

"For David Woodwell of 2s ew Hamp- 
shire and Jonathan Burbank of Penacook, 
to assist them to go to Canada to attempt 
the redemption of the daughter of said 
Woodwell, and the brother of said Bar- 
bunk, captivated at Xew Hopkinton by 
the Indians in April, 1746: Fob. 5, 17-if>. 
was collected £JW Ss. to be equally divid- 
ed between them." 

This money proved sufficient for the 
redemption of Mary Woodwell and Ca- 
leb Burbank. But it would not have 
been sufficient if artifice had not been 
resorted to, for when David Woodwell 
appeared the last time before the St. 
Francis squaw, and offered her his last 
shilling, she sternly rejected the offer. 
He then went to Montreal, where he 
contracted with a Frenchman, as his 
agent, for the purchase of his daughter. 
This agent, after having attempted a 
compromise several times, in vain, em- 
ployed a French physician, who was in 
high reputation among the Indians, to 
assist. him. The doctor, under a cloak 
of friendship to the squaw, secretly ad- 
vised Mary to feign sickness, and he- 
gave her medicine to help on the de- 
ception. The doctor was soon called 
upon by the Indians for medical treat- 
ment, and while he appeared to exert 
the utmost of his skill, the patient, ap- 
parently, grew worse and worse. After 
making several visits to no effect, the 
doctor, finally, gave her over as being 

past recovery, and he advised her mis- 
tress, as a real friend, to sell her at the 
first opportunity for what she could get 
— otherwise the girl would die, and she 
would lose all. The mercenary old 
squaw, alarmed at this, immediately 
contracted with the French agent for 
100 livres, whereupon Mary soon be- 
gan to mend, and was shortly after con- 
veyed to Montreal, where she continued 
six months longer, among the French, 
waiting for a passport. Thus", by this 
clever stratagem, Woodwell and his as- 
sistants compassed their end. 

The bitterness of this long night of 
despair, especially to one of the tem- 
perament of the subject of this sketch, 
can be better imagined than described. 
The months, the weeks — even the 
hours were all desolate, both by light 
and by darkness. For three long years 
she had endured the hardships and 
privations incident to the Indian mode 
of life ; had seen all efforts for her 
release prove abortive ; had been com- 
pelled for this long period o( time to 
hard labor in planting and hoeing corn, 
chopping and carrying wood, pounding 
samp, gathering high-bush cranberries 
and other wild fruit for the market. 
But at length, when the hope of a 
return to her friends had entirely died 
out in her heart, deliverance from the 
cruel servitude of her enslavers came. 

A French livre is eighteen and one 
half cents, and hence the price of the 
redemption of this captive was only 
eighteen dollars and a half. No right- 
minded person will condemn the 
sharp devise by which her release was 
effected. Even the old patriarch, Ab- 
raham, was not above practicing decep- 
tion for a good purpose. Sarai, his 
wife, was a woman of uncommon at- 
tractions ; when, therefore, they trav- 
elled together, Abraham desired that 
she should call herself his sister, lest 
any, being captivated by her beauty, 
and knowing Abraham to be her hus- 
band, might slay him to get possession 
of her. 

Caleb Burbank, also, was released 
sometime during the year j 749. David 
Woodwell, together with his two sons, 
and Jonathan Burbank, got away after a 

2 3 $ 


comparatively short detention in Can- 
ada. The latter returned to Concord, 
which had probably been the 
residence of the Burbank family before 
their removal to Hopkinton. He after- 
wards became an officer in the military 
service, and was killed by the Indians 
in tiie French war, about the year 

Alter a detention ot six months 
among the French at Montreal, Mary 
was conveyed (mostly by water) to 
Albany, New York, by the Dutch., who 
had made a pilgrimage to Canada in 
order to redeem their black slaves 
whom the Indians had previously taken 
and carried thither. From Albany she 
was conducted 10 the place of her 
nativity. This was in 1750. And here 
the following record should be insert- 
ed : "Married, Feb. 6, 1755, I esse 
Corbett of Uxbridge, to Mary Wood- 
well of" Hopkinton." This young 
couple, after marriage, moved at once 
to Hopkinton, New Hampshire, and 
settled down on the very ground where 
the wife had fallen into the hands of 
the savages nine years before. Her 
father returned with the daughter to 
this deserted wilderness home at the 
base of Putney's hill. The latter part 
of November, 1757, he went back to 
his birthplace, married a second wife 
(whose name was Mary), and brought 
her to New Hopkinton, where they 
finished their days at a good old age. 

By Mary's first marriage she had 
two sons, Josiah and Jesse Corbett. 
They were both botn in Hopkinton, 
New Flampshire. In 1759 her hus- 
band, who was a resolute young man, 
was drowned in what was then usually 
called Amesbury river (the leading- 
stream in Warner). In attempting to 
swim across this river near its mouth, 
in a high stage of water, he was swept 
down by the raging current into the 
Contoocook, down the Contoocook 
into the Merrimack, and down the 
Merrimack to Dunstable, where his 
body was recovered. 

In 1 76 1 Mary YVoodwell Corbett 
married Jeremiah Fowler (probably a 
resident of Hopkinton, New Hamp- 
shire). By this second marriage she 

had five children, whose descendants 


oughout New 
of Joseph 

t on the 23d day of Novem- 
757, David YVoodwell with nine 

are quite numerou 
England. The fa mi 
Barnard, Esq., of Hopkinton, is con- 
nected by marriage with the heroine of 
this story ; the wife of the late Horn 
Abner B. Keiley oi Warner, v. as her 
granddaughter, and Capt. Nicholas 
Fowler, who built the Ela mills at 
Warner village, was her grandson. 

The church records of Hopkinton 
show tl 
ber, 1 f _ 

others, including Rev. James Scales, 
were formed into a church. This cere- 
mony took place at the fort on the top 
of the southern spur of Putney's Hill, 
and on the same day, at the same place, 
Mr. Scales, the first minister, was or- 
dained. This fort was a mile and a 
half, perhaps, in a southerly direction 
from the YVoodwell garrison. The dust 
of Mr. Scales, the faithful, first guide 
of this little flock, lies in the old ceme- 
tery, near the fort, unmarked by any 
recognizable tombstone. The next 
minister of this church was Rev. Elijah 
Fietcher, the father of Grace, who was 
the wife of Daniel Webster. 

The aforesaid church records con- 
tinue : 

"On the nth day of Dec, 1757, 
Mary Woodwell, wife of David, was 
admitted from the church at Hopkin- 
ton, Mass." 

"Nov. 4, 1759, the Widow Mary 
Corbett was admitted." 

"April 2, 1760, David Woodwell was 
elected deacon." 

"May 22, 1763, Jeremiah Fowler 
was admitted to the church on pro- 

Josiah, the first-born of Mary YVood- 
well Corbett, took his family, consist- 
ing of his wife and two sons (Jesse 
and Thomas), and joined the Snaker 
society at Enfield. This was in 1792. 
A short time afterwards he transferred 
his home to the society at Canterbury, 
where he led an industrious life, and 
where he died, among his chosen peo- 
ple, in 1 833. Jesse, the oldest son of 
Josiah, was a '■ sleep-walker." He- 
left the Shakers when a young man, 
went to Lake Village, and in a som- 



nambuiistic state stepped out of the 
second story window of. a house and 
was killed. Thomas, the youngest son 
of Josiahj was born ar Hopkinton, 
New Hampshire, in 1780, He con- 
tinued wit!) the Shakers from his first 
connection with them, to the end of 
hi- days. In ]un^.\ r 8 5 7 . he departed 
this life in the seventy-seventh year of 
his age. 

This grandson of our heroine was a 
man of genius and character. He was 
never idle. Having a mechanical tern 
of mind, he invented and gave to the 
world a superior form of printing press 
(for that time), which, during his day, 
had an extensive sale. He also man- 
ufactured brass clocks, many of which 
are still running. A man of great 
industry and perseverance, he entered 
upon the study of medicine, having as 
his instructor. Dr. Tenney of Loudon, 
the father of the late Dr. R. P. J. Ten- 
ney, of Pittsfield, this state. For 
many years Dr. Corbett was an active 
and efficient physician in the Canter- 
bury society, and an able adviser with 
the physicians of the Shaker societies 
in Massachusetts and New York. He 
built up a large and profitable trade in 
the business of pressed herbs and 

is well as in the m aim fact 1 


medicinal oils and tinctures. The 
Shakei Sarsaparilia has a wide reputa- 
tion and an extensive sale throughout 
the country. This is the production 
of Thomas Corbett. and the bottles 
are still labelled " Corbett's Shaker 
Sarsaparilia." In his light hair and 
complexion, and in his agreeable man- 
ners and general intelligence, he bore 
a strong resemblance to his venerable 
ancestress, the subject of this biograph- 
ical sketch. Eider Henry C. Blinn of 

the Canterbury society bears this hand- 
some tribute to his memory : "He was 
a man of deep religious feeling, and 
scrupulously honest in all his dealings." 
Jeremiah Fowler died at Hopkinton, 
about the year 1802, and immediately 
thereafter (being in her second widow- 
hood) Mary Woodwell Corbett Fowler 
connected herself with the Shaker 
society at Canterbury, where her hon- 
ored son and grandson were, and there, 
for the last quarter of a century and 
more of her long and eventful life, 
she found congenial spirits and a val- 
ued home. On the 3d day of Octo- 
I ber, 1S29, and in the one hundredth 
I year of her age, she passed gently on 
I to the "unseen shore," 


In the sketch of the ancestors of 
Hon. George B. Chandler, given in the 
January number of the Granite Month- 
ly, notice of one generation was omitted. 

5 Thomas Chandler, son of 4 Zacha- 
riah and Margaret (Bishop) Chandler, 
horn at Roxbury, December 7, 1716; 
married Hannah, daughter of Col. 
John Goffe, about 1 743. They are said 
to have been the first couple married in 
Bedford. He died at Bedford, No- 
vember 2, 1 752, leaving four children, of 
whom aZachariah, the only son, was the 
youngest. Hannah., one of the daugh- 
ters, became the wife of Col. Stephen 
Peabody, of Amherst, an officer of some 

note at Bunker Hill and Bennington. 
H an n a h ( G o ffe ) C h a n d 1 e r a ft e r w a \ d s 
married Capt. Andrew Bradford, of Am- 
herst, by whom she had five children . She 
died at Milford, Dec. i_j, 1819, aged 
ninety-six years, leaving eight children, 
sixty-three grandchildren, one hundred 
and thirteen great grandchildren, and 
one of the fifth generation, making one 
hundred and eighty-five descendants. 

Among the children of Capt. Brad- 
ford, by a former marriage, was Capt. 
John Bradford, father oi Rev. Ephraim 
P. Bradford, for many years the minis- 
ter of New Boston, 

D. F. Secomb. 





In every true picture of early New England civilization, the meeting-house 
occupies a prominent place in the foreground. One of the conditions of the 
grant of our township, imposed by the General Court of Massachusetts Bay, 
from whom it was received in 1725, was, "That a convenient house for the 
public worship of God be completely finished within the term aforesaid [three 
years] for the accommodation of all such as shall inhabit the aforesaid tract of 
land." 1 

This condition was faithfully and promptly fulfilled. Before the first furrows 
had been turned, even before the township had been surveyed, the intended 
settlers, at a meeting held in Andover, Massachusetts, on the eighth day of Febru- 
ary, 1726, "Agreed and voted, thai a block house, twenty-five feet in breadth and 
forty feet in length, be built at Penny Cook for the security of the settlers." The 
last phrase of this vote, "for the security of the settlers" indicates plainly the 
purpose of that house. It was intended as a bulwark, not against error and 
ungodliness only, but against the fierce assaults of the savage as well. Farther 
action was taken at the same meeting by the appointment of a committee of 
five to secure its early erection. 2 And, as if this was not enough, they appoint- 
ed another committee of three to examine the charges made for this work, and 
to allow and pay from the township treasury such as they might deem reason- 
able. 3 

Tradition has preserved the location of this our first meeting-house, which 
stood beneath the arches of the primeval forest, upon the north side of the 
brook now concealed beneath the roadway, near the corner of Main and Chapel 
streets. Of necessity, and appropriately as well, it was built of logs. Forty 
feet was the length of it and twenty-five feet was the breadth of it. It was of 
one story, and its rough walls were pierced with small square windows, suffi- 
ciently high from the ground to protect its occupants from the missiles of In- 
dian foes. 4 Its floor was the virgin soil. Its roof was of riven pine or of the 
trunks of sapling trees. 

It was commenced in 1726, the same year that the survey of the township was 

1 It is a notable fact, that the first public assembly in the township was one for public worship, held 
on Sunday, the fifteenth day of May. n_V>, nnd composed of a committee of the General Court, survey- 
ors, and some of t! ic proprietor.'?, who had arrived two days before. They had come to survey the 
township and were attended by their chaplain, Rev. Enoch Coffin, who performed divine service in 
their camp at Sugar Ball Plain, both parts of the day.— Committee's Journal. 

2 Agreed and voted, That John Chandler, Moses Hazzen, Nehemiah Carlton, Nat.hau Simouds and 
Ebenezer Stevens be a committee, and they arc hereby empowered to build, either bv themselves, or to 
agree with workmen, to build a block house of twenty-five feet in breadth and forty feet in length, as in 
their judgment shall be most for the security of the settlers."— Prop. Iiec, Vol. A., p. 23. 

3 Agreed and voted, That Timothy Johnson, John Osgood and Moses Day be chosen, appointed aad 
empowered to examine th- charges* that shall arise in building a Wockhou*© ar a place called- Penny 
Cook, or any other charges that shah arise in bringing forward the settlement, and to allou os in their 
judgment shall be just and equal, and also to draw money outoi the treasury for the defraying of said 
charges."— Prop. Rec., Vol. .!.,]>. 24. 

4 At times during the French and Indian wars, "On the Sabbath the men all went armed to the 
house of worship; stacked their guns round a post in the middle, with powder horn and bullet poach 
slung across their shoulders, while their revered pastor, — who is said to have had the best gun in the 
parish,— prayed and preached with his good gun standing in the pulpit." — Bouton't History of Coil' 
cord, page 164. 


begun, and finished in 1727, 1 months before the first family moved into the ser- 
t'ement. - It was the first permanent building completed in Penny Coo!: and ante- 
dates the saw and grist mills, two of the earliest and most important structures 
in early New England towns. The precise date of its completion has been lost, 
but it appears from their records that a meeting of the township proprietors was 
held in it as early as the fifteenth of May. 1727. From that time onward, for 
more than twenty years, it was the place of all considerable gatherings of the 
good people of Penny Cook. 

Two years after its completion (1 729), when a sawmill had been erected, 
measures were taken to substitute for its floor of earth a more comfortable one 
of wood." The year following, in anticipation of the settlement of "a learned, 
orthodox minister," farther action was taken to hasten the completion of this 
and perhaps other improvements of its interior. 4 

On the eighteenth of November of this year (1730), there assembled within 
its rude walis the first ecclesiastical council ever held in New Hampshire north 
of Dunstable and west of SOmersworth. It was convened for the purpose of 
a- '-ting in the formation of this church and for ordaining and installing its first 
minister, the Rev. Timothy Walker, who served it with great fidelity for fifty-two 
years, 5 For a considerable time afterwards this church occupied an extreme 
frontier position. 

There is little reason to suppose that there were any social inequalities among 
the settlers of this remote township, or if, perchance, any such ousted, that they 
would have been manifested in the meeting-house. One is surprised, therefore, 10 
learn that leave was granted on the fifteenth day of March. 1738, to Mr. James 
Scales, afterwards for thirteen years the minister of Hopkinton, to build a pew 
upon the floor of this building. 6 

Fourteen days later, March 29, T73S, it was decided, owing to the increase 
of population, to enlarge the existing accommodations by the erection of gal- 
leries, and, so far as necessary, to repair the house. 7 

This little block-house beside the brook in the wilderness, rude and humble 
as it was, served the triple purpose of sanctuary, school-house and town-hall, 
clearly indicating to all who saw it the three leading elements of our New Eng- 
land civilization, — religion, universal education, and self-government. 

1 Edward Abbot deposed, that on the eighth dav of May, 1727, he with many others set out from An- 
dover mi their journey to a new township called Fenny Cook, in order to erect a house which had been 
sometime before begun, which was designed by the settlers for a meeting house for the public worship 
of God.—]Jc-po$ition of E. Abbot, in Bow Controver.ii/. 

2 Jacob Shnte deposed " that in the fall of the year 1727 be assisted in moving up the first family tha* 
fettled at Penny Cook, that he there found a meeting house built."— Deposition of J. Shute, in Bow 

3 May 1, 1729. "Voted that there be a floor of plant; or boards laid in the meeting house at the charge 
of the communiry of Pennv Cook, and that Lieut. Timothy Johnson and Mr. Xehemiah Carlton be a 
committee to get the floor laid as soon as may be conveniently."— Prop, liec, Vol. A. pajc oS. 

4 March 31, 1730. "Voted thai Mr. John Merrill be added to Messrs. Timothy Johnson and Nathan 
Simonds in' order to a speedy repairing of the present meeting house at Penny Cook at the settler's 

5 The sermon on this occasion, which discussed the subject of "Christian Churches Formed and Fur- 
nished hv Christ." was preached by the Rev. John Barnard, of Andover, Mass. The charge to the pas- 
tor was bv the Rev. Samuel Phillips, pastor of the South Church of the same town, and the right hand 
of fellowship by the Rev. John Brown, of Haverhill, Ma<s. Near the c!o=e of his sermon, Mr. Barnard 
thus alludes to some of the circumstances attending this remote settlement in the wilderness :— 

"You, rny brethren,, * * * * have prepost'd worldly Conveniences and Accommodations, in your 
engaging in the settlement of this remote Plantation. There is this peculiar circumstance in your 
Settlement, that it is in n Place, where .Satan, some Year- ago, had his Seat, and the Devil was wont to 
be Invocated bv forsaken Salvages : A place in which was the Rendezvous and Head Quarters of our 
Indian Enemies. Our Lord J< uis Christ has driven out the Heathen and marie Room for you, that He 
•night have a Seed to serve llim in this E'lace. where He has been much dishonored in Time past." — Mr. 
Barnard's Ordination Sermon, pages 28 and 20. 

_ 6 March 15, 173?. "Voted that Mr. James Scales shall have liberty to build a pew in the one half of 
\: r hindennost seat at the west end of the raeetingdiouse that is next the window."— Town Records, 

I ol. 7, par/e on. 

y 7 March 29, 1738. "Voted that Ensign Jeremiah Stickney and Benjamin Rolfc, Esq., be a committee 

to take, car.: that galleries be built in the meeting-house, and that said meeting-house be well repaired ;■' 
tae town cost." 


The nations of the old world built no such structures. The French erected 
none like it upon the shores of the St. Lawrence. Neither did the Dutch at the 
month of the Hudson, or the Spaniard-; in Florida, or the Cavaliers at James- 
town. Planted upon the tine where advancing civilization met retiring barbar- 
ism, this was the seed-house from which have sprung the sixteen fairer struct- 
ures which now adorn our city. When our forefathers laid upon the virgin soil 
the bottom logs oi this block-house, they laid here the foundations not alone of 
a Christian civilization, but of a sovereign state capital as well. Their simple 
acts were of consequence far greater than they dreamed. 

1751-18 12. 

As time passed on, the population of the township so far increased as to im- 
peratively demand a larger meeting-house, and in 1751 a new one was erected 
upon the spot now occupied by the Walker school-house. Its frame, mostly of 
oak, was composed of timbers of great size and very heavy. The raising, 
commenced on the twelfth day 01 June, occupied a large number of men for 
three days. The good women of the parish asserted their uncontested rights 
on the occasion, and afforded such refreshments as the nature of the arduous 
work required. 1 

This building was one of great simplicity and entirely unomamented. It was 
sixty feet long, forty-six feet wide, and two stories high. It faced the south, on 
which side was a door opening upon an aisle extending through the middle of 
the house straight to the pulpit. The seats were rude benches placed upon each 
side of it ; those upon the west being assigned to the women, and those upon 
the east to the men. The deacons sat upon a seat in front of the pulpit and 
laced the congregation. A marked attention had been shown the minister by 
building for him a pew — the only one in the house. This simple structure was 
without gallery, porch, steeple or chimney. 

As the town had, at this date, owin^- to its controversv with Bow, no organiz- 
ed government, it was built by a company of individuals, designated " Tne Pro- 
prietors of the Meeting-House, " and not by the town, as was usually the case. 
Its erection, under these circumstances, is an important fact, showing conclu- 
sively the resolute character of our fathers ; for, at this very time, all the fair 
fields which they had wrested from the wilderness were unjustly claimed by per- 
sons of high political and social influence in the province, who, through the 
agency of the courts, were seeking to seize them. 2 

Indeed, it was only after a long and expensive controversy of thirteen years, 
that our ancestors finally obtained, in 1762, at the Court of St. James, a decis- 
sion securing to them the peaceable possession of their homes. A new spirit 
was infused into their hearts by this removal, by royal command, of the clouds 

1 Beaton's IJi-rory of Concord, page 230. 

2 The Bow controversy, winch lasted about twelve years, involved the title to more than two third'* 
of the entire territory of Concord. Our fathers held this under a grant of the General Court of Massa- 
chusetts J5.iv. made in January, 1725. By the settlement of the boundary Hue between Massachusetts 
and New Hampshire, in K-h>, 'ir became u pan of the latter province. 

Some nine years afterward*, by virtue of a grant by the government of New Hampshire, made in 
May, 1727, a company denominated the Proprietors of Bow, sought bv writ- ut eject men t to d '-possess 
the owners after a peaceable possession of more than twenty vears. The parcels sued for svere pur- 
posely so small us to preclude appeals to the higher courts in Kngtuud; the object being to so harrass 
the occupants as to force them either to an abandonment of their lands or to a second purchase of them 
from tin- Bow claimant -. 

Our ^fathers regarded the whole scheme as abase swindle, and at once determined to resist its con- 
summation. Defeated in every case brought before the provincial courts, then largely controlled by 
these claimants, they dispatched their minister, the Kev. Timothy Walker, as their Mgent, to L >n Ion, 
to seek redress of their wrongs in tin- home courts. For this purpose, he went to Kngland no less than 
three time-, one:- in the fall of !7o3. once in 17-VJ, and once in. 17«S2. On the twenty-ninth dav of Decern- 
her of tin- last year he obtained of tin' King in Council a. decrte reversing the decisions of the Pro' ince 
Courts and establishing the validity of their title,— a decree as just as the claims which it annihilated 
were wicked. 


A-frich had so Jong hung over them. This was manifested in the increased en- 
prise everywhere apparent. Improvements, long delayed, were immediately 
. imnienced, now that they felt quieted in the possession of their estates. 1 

It also appeared, some years later, in the general desire to finish the meeting- 
;e, which the proprietors had hitherto but partially completed. 

Measures were instituted as early as 1772 for the purchase of tlieii interest by 
the town, but the distractions of the revolution so absorbed the time and 

Lights of the people that nothing conclusive was done. 2 Seven years after- 
wards, however (1779), the town voted "to relinquish the pew ground to any 

• imber of persons who would finish the meeting-house and add a porch and 
■'. value of another porch." It also voted " to be at the expense of building 
the steeple, excepting the cost of a porch." Two wars later, on the ninth day of 
] ily, 1781, a committee was appointed to secure the enlargement o( the meet- 
ing-house lot by the purchase of additional land upon the south of it. 

The next year (March 5, 1782), another committee was chosen to negotiate 
with the proprietors of the meeting-house for the purchase of their interest 
therein. 3 The parish accepted their report, and, a month later, April S, 1782, 
in accordance with its recommendations, the purchase was made. 4 

in June of this year, the parish decided to finish the house, and Col, Timothy 
Walker, Jr.. Robert Harris and Lieut. Joseph Hah were constituted a commit- 
tee for that purpose. 5 The inside was completed in 1783, and, in the course of 
the next year, the outside was finished. 

It had an entrance porch at each end, twelve feet square and two stories high, 
containing a flight of stairs, in three runs, giving access to the galleries. The east 
porch was surmounted by a belfry and steeple, upon the spire of which stood, 
one hundred and twenty-three feet from the ground, a gilded weather-cock, of 
copper, four feet high and weighing fifty-six pounds. It had glass eyes and a 
proudly expanded, tail. It always looked ready for a fight, ecclesiastical or 
rivil. Our fathers thought much of it, and consulted its movements, in divin- 
ing the weather, with almost as much confidence as do we the daily telegrams 
from the meteorological office at Washington. 

The posts of tins house, which were but partially concealed, were of white 
oak, and revealed plainly the marks of the hewer's broad-axe. They were 
twenty-eight feet long, twelve inches square at the bottom and twelve by eigh- 
teen inches at the top. Those of the bell-tower were of pine, sixty-four feet long 
and eighteen inches square. 'Two pitch pine timbers, each sixty feet long and 
eighteen inches square, pinned to the cross-beams, confined this tower to the 
main body of the building. The belfry roof was supported upon graceful arch- 
es and covered with tmpainted tin. The bell-deck was surrounded by a hand- 

1 Lit.' diary of the pastor for 1701, the vcar succeeding Unit of his ki.=e return from England, affords 
■" arked evidence of this fact. In i: lie says : 

'.'. ^P''^' 2r) - Set out 20 apple trees in the fslund orchard and in ye Joel orchard." 

" April 23. JJmi 40 apple trees of Philip Eastman, brot. ym. home and set ym. out." 

|| April 24. Set out about 00 young apple trees in ye house lot." 

" M'iy 2. Sfet out eight elm trees about my house." 

" M">j o. .Sowed a bushel of bailey and more than a bushel of flax ?ecd and harrowed it in. X. B.— 
- :, i of March set out 03 young apple trees in a row. beginning next ye road; then set out two young 
I - mi tree* ; then 5 of best winter apples; then 9 oi the spice apple, making 70 in ye whole." 

2 March-3,'1772. " Voted thnt John Kimball, Henry Martin and John Blanchard be a committee 
jo treat with the proprietors of the meeting-house, or such a committee as they shall choose, in order 
; ' ; purchase said house for the use of the paruh."— Town llewds, Vol, 2, page 34. 

■'' Murck o, 1 755. " Voted to choose a committee to treat with the proprietors of the meeting-house 
siid sve upon what term? tliev will reiinq lish the same to the parish." 
. " > t»tcd that Peter Green, V.«\., Gapt. Benjamin Krwerv and Mr. Benjamin Hanniford be a committ*© 

• r the purpose aforesaid."— Town Records, Vol. 2, page 112. 

* For a copy of the deed see Bouton's History of Concord, page 235. 

5 June 7 7, 1782. " Voted to finish the meeting-house in said Concord." 
' ',°-'- ,( ' to choose 11 committee to provide materials and finish said house." 
ti » r oted that the committee consist of three." 

' > oted that Col. Timothv Walker, Mr. Robert Harris and Mr. Joseph Hs.ll be a committee for the 
Purpose aforesaid."— Townlleoords, Vol. 2, page 114. 


some railing, and, upon the belfry ceiling was painted, in strong colors, the thirty- 
two points of the compass ; of sufficient size to be easily read from the 
ground* The walls were clapboarded and surmounted by a handsome cornice, 

To the lower floor there were three entrances ; one, already mentioned, upon 
the south side, and one from each porch. Over the two last were entrances to 
the gallery. There were two aisles besides that before alluded to. One ex- 
tended from the east to the west door, and the other from one door to the other, 
between the wall pews upon the east, south and west, sides of the house and the 
body pews. 

The pews were square and inclosed by pannelled sides, surmounted by turned 
balusters supporting a moulded rail. The seats were without cushions and fur- 
nished with hinges, that they might be turned up when the congregation stood, 
as it did, during the long prayer. At the close of this they all went down with 
one emphatic bang, in response to the minister's "Amen ! " 

The pulpit which was a huge, square structure and had a semicircular pro- 
jection in front, was constructed of panelling and loomed up like Mount 
Sinai, in awful majesty, high above the congregation. Behind it was a broad 
window of three divisions, above which projected forwards a ponderous sound- 
ing board, of elaborate workmanship, as curious in design as it was innocent ol 

The pulpit was readied by .a flight of stairs upon the west side, ornamented 
by balusters of curious patterns, three of which, each differing from the others, 
stood upon each step and supported the rail. The bright striped stair carpet, 
the red silk damask cushion, upon which rested the big Bible, blazing in scarlet 
and gold, were conclusive evidence that our ancestors lavished upon the sanct- 
uary elegancies winch they denied themselves. 

At the foot of the pulpit stairs stood a short mahogany pillar, upon which 
on baptismal occasions was placed the silver font. Just beneath and before the 
pulpit, was the ol i men's pew, 1 to the front of which was suspended a semi- 
circular board, winch, raised to a horizontal position on sacramental or business 
occasions, formed a table. A. wide gallery, sloping upwards from front to rear, 
extended the entire length of the ea^t, south and west sides of this house. 
Next the wall were square pews like those below. In front of these the space 
was occupied in part by pews and in part by slips, with the exception of a sec- 
tion on the south side, immediately in front of the pulpit, which had been inclosed 
for the use of the choir. This had a round table in the centre, upon which 
the members placed their books, pitch-pipe, and instruments of music. At a 
later date rows of seats took the place of this enclosure. A horizontal iron 
rod was placed above the breastwork in front of these, from which depended 
curtains of red. These were drawn during the singing and concealed the 
faces of the fairer singers from the congregation. At other times they were 
pushed aside. 

In the east gallery, next to and north of the door was the negro pew. I' 
was plainer than the others, and, at most services, had one or more sable occu- 
pants. Still farther north, but at a later date, was another of twice the ordinary 
size, finely upholstered, furnished with chairs and carpeted. It belonged to 
Dr. Peter Renton, a Scotch physician, who came to Concord about 1822, and 
for some twenty years was quite prominent as a physician. 

Such was our second meeting-house when finished in 1784, with but few, :•' 
any exceptions, the best in New Hampshire. 

1 [t is remembered wit ii pleasure that in tiic old meeting-hou<e the venerable old men sat on a net 
prepared for them at the b:i.sf.' of the pulpit, wearing on their bald heads a white linen cap in summer, 
and a. red woolen or flannel cap in winter. This practice continued a? late as l&lo and IS 50. 

Among the ancient men who thus sat in the. "old men's" seat, the following are distinctly reined 
bored: ltcuben Abbott, senior; Christopher Kowell, senior; John Shute; Cap t. Joseph Farm; - ..'; 
Samuel Goodwin; MosesAbbott; Reuben Abbott, 2d; NathanAbbott and Chandler Lovojoy." —liouto 
UisC. Concord, p. 529. 


One. object the town had in view, in lavishing so much upon it, was a very 
praiseworthy desire to accommodate the legislature, which met here for the 
first time (17S2) two years before, and was evincing some disposition to make 
Concord the capital of the state. 

Such it remained until 1802. It was our only meeting-house and to it the 
families of all sections of the town went up to worship— -from Bow line to the 
Mast Yard, from Beech Mill to Soucook river. 1 

Many persons, owing to the want of good roads or of carriages, went to meet- 
ing on horseback. A man and woman often rode doable, the former upon a 
saddle, in front, and the latter upon a pillion, behind. 2 Why this custom was 
confined to married and elderly persons tradition does not say. For the con- 
venience of persons riding thus there was a mounting block, near the northwest 
corner of the meeting-house. This consisted of a circular flat stone, eight feet 
in diameter, raised about three feet from the ground. A few steps led to the 
top of it, from which many of our ancestors easily mounted their horses at the 
close of divine service. I am happy to say that this ancient horse-block, as it 
was termed, is in good preservation and doing kindred duty at the present 
time. 3 

The expenses incurred in the completion of this, our second meeting-house, 
were met by an auction sale of the pews, of which there were forty-seven upon 
the ground-floor and twenty-six in the gallery. By this sale, it became the joint 
property of the town and of the pew owners. 4 

1 The population of Concord in 1^00 was -2V)2. " The intermission was short— an hoar in winter and 
an hour and a half in summer. The people all stayed, except those i.i the immediate vicinity; and 
hence, as everyhvfy attend id tU - same meeting, a fine opportunity was afforded tor ecerybod'y to be 
acju.-uiitfcd. Old people n >w s iv that they used to know everv person in town. Thu« public \v hip 
greatly promoted social union and cod 1 feeling throughout the whole community. Whatever new or 
interesting event occurred in one n«dg,iborhood', such as a death, bi.-th, marriage, or any accident, be- 
came u subject of conversa:ion, and thus communication was kept up between the people of remote 
5 • uions, wlio saw each other on no other day than the Sabbath.'" — Bouton's History of Concord, page 

Capt. Joseph Walker, \vh > at a considerably later time commanded a large company of cavalry, resi- 
dent in Concord an 1 neighb ning row in. wa- accustomed to notify meetings of his company by verbal 
notices to such members as he happened to see at the meeting-house, on Sand ty. Tnese were suffi- 
; cient, although many were not present., and some lived in Canterbury and Northne'ld. J. B. W. 

2" ' Coin;/ to miatlny,' as it was called, on the Sabb tth, was for seventy-live years and more the uni- 
versal custom. Elded-/ peop'.e, wh> owned horses, rode double — that is, the wife with her husband, 
; a^ed on a pillion behind him, with her right; ami encircling his breast. The young people of both 
•• xes went on foot fr >ai eve/ part o: the parish. In sum ner, young men usually walked barefoot, or 
with shoes in hand; an I tlvi vounj* women, walked with coarse shoes, carrying a better pair in hand, 
with stockings, to change before entering the meeting-house. The usual custom of those west of Long 
I\>n 1 was to stop at a largo pins tree' at the bottom of the hill west of Richard Bradley's, where the 
h >'s and young :n<m put on choir shoes, and the young women exchanged their coarse shoes for a bet- 
'••■■ i air, drawing on at the same time their clean,' white stockings." — Boitton's History of Concord, page 
•" - s . 

3" On the west side of the old meeting-house was, and is, a horse-block, famous for its accommoda- 
': >ns to the women in mounting and dismounting the horses. It consists in a large, round, tint stone, 
-■en and a half feet in diameter, or about twenty-two feet in circumference, raised about four feet 
• ;-'■', with steps. Tradition savs it was erected at the instauce of the good wives who rode on pillions, 
-'■• I mat the? agree 1 to p iv apouu I >i' baiter apiece to defra - the exp juse."— Bouton's History of Con- 
cord,pag t 530. 
At a nieetfug of the Society, held on the 13th day of April. 16(59, tills horse-block was presented to 
m writer of tais paoer, as appears bv the fallowing vote in tin: clerk's records, viz.: "Voted that we 
i tsent the old Efurse-Bloek to .Mr. Jos. IJ. Walker." 

4 March 2, 1781. '• Voted to c'ao >so a comu\ittee to vendue the pews and finish the meeting-house." 
" Voted that this committee consist of three." 

" Voted that C ip r . Reuben Kimb til. C -1. Timothy Walker and Lieut. John Brad- 
lev be a committee for the purpose aforesaid." 
«' Voted to make an addition of two to the* committee aforesaid." 
•'Voted thai John Kimball and dames Walker be the additional committee." 
" Vot< d to choose a T.-< usurer to receive the u )tes f -r the pews." 
*« Vofvd that 1).-. Peter Green be T?resb?urer." 
" Vote i to choose a committee 10 set le with Treasurer." 
" Voted that this r<> irmit ee coirist of three." 
•'Voted that Cap-. Benjamin Emery, Peter Green, Esq., and Capt. John Roach be 

the c mimiitee t\>v the purp >■:• aforesaid. '" 
"Voted to reconsider the vote choosing Dr. Peter Green, Treasurer." 
"Voted that the committee appointed to finish the nice dug-house proceed to fin- 
ish the outsi le of the tame the. ensuing summer."-*- Town Records, Vol. 2,puge4 
132 and 133 

2 46 


At the opening of the present century, the congregation had so increased as 

to require its enlargement. At a meet in;.: holden on the first day of December, 
1801, the town accepted a plan for that purpose, presented by a committee 
previously chosen. 1 This provided for an addition of two stories to the south 
side. At the same time Richard Aver and others were authorized, upon fur- 
nishing suitable bonds hr the faithful performance of the work, to make this 
addition, at their own cost, and take in compensation therefor, the new pew 
ground thus acquired. 2 

This addition, which stood upon two courses of finely hammered granite 
ashler, was a semi-polygon, having the same length as the house and a middle 
width of thirty feet. The ridge lines of its roof, stalling from a common point, 
on the ridge of the old structure, half-way between its two extremes, terminated 
at the several angles of the cornice. The style and quality of the work corre- 
sponded to that to which it was an addition. Upon completion, Match r, 1803, 
it was approved by the town and the bond of the undertakers was surrend- 
ered. 3 


1 " Voted to choose a committee of seven persons to propose a plan to the town, viz. : — Jacob Abbot, 
Richard Aver, Paul Robe, William A. Kent, Beujumiii Emery, Stephen Ambrose, Abial Virgin." 

*' Voted to accent the report of the above committee, which is as follows, viz. : — 'Tue committee ap- 
pointed to report apian for an addition to the meeting-house report that a plan exhibited before the 
town, being a semi-circle projecting thirty feet in front of the house, and divided into seven angles, and 
the gallery upon the plan anuexeuTbe accepted, and that the owners of pews in the front of the house 
below have their choice to remain where they are or go back 10 the wall the same distance from the 
front door; and that the present front wall pews ba placed on a level with the other body pews, that 
the owners of wall pews in front ot the gallery have as good wall pews in front of the addition.' " 

2 "Voted to choose a committee of five to take bonds of Capt. Richard Aver and others who same 
forward at this meeting, and offered to make' the addition on the plan exhibited by the committee and 
accepted bv the town, viz. : Jacob Abbott, John Blauchard, Benin. Emery, John Kimball and Enoch 
Brown, the committee, for the above purpose." — Town Records, )'vl. :', page 266. 

3 M.irch 1,1803. "Voted to accept the report of the committee appointed to inspect the buildin* 
and finishing the a ldition to the meeting-house, \ u. • ' We a for. '-aide itnnitttee having careful!)' iu-r. ;cfeu 
tiie materials made use of in the making the a ldition to and alterations in the mi cting-house in Con- 
cord and the workmanship in erectiug and finishing the same, hereby certify that it appears to u* that 


The cost of this addition was met by the sale of the new pews, for which it 
afforded room. These, unlike the old ones, were long and narrow and denomi- 
nated slips. 

A few years later (1809), the selectmen were directed to remove the two 
front pews, in the old part of the house, and have erected upon their site four 
slips. These, upon completion, were sold at auction for the sum of three 
hundred and twenty-two dollars and twenty-five cents, which was set aside as 
the nucleus of a fund for the purchase of a bell, in accordance with a vote of 
the town authorizing this work. Nearly ten years before this (March 31, 1S00), 
the town had offered, with a prudence worthy of highest admiration, * ; to accept 
oi a bell if one cm be obtained by subscription." This liberal offer had lain 
neglected for nine entire years until now, when private subscriptions increased 
this nucleus to five hundred dollars, and the long wished for bell was procured. 
It weighed twelve hundred pounds, and as its clear tones sounded up and down 
oar valley, the delight was universal. 

The next year the town ordered it rung three times every day, except Sundays, 
viz. : at seven in the morning, at noon, and at nine o'clock at night. The times 
of ringing on Sundays were to be regulated by the selectmen. Four years 
later it was ordered to be tolled at funerals when desired. 

Our first bell ringer was Sherburn Wiggin. 1 He was paid a salary of twenty- 
five dollars a year and gave a, satisfactory bond for a faithful performance of 
the duties of his office. The prudence of our fathers is clearly seen in the 
practice of requiring bonds of their public servants and of annually "venduing" 
some of their le^s valuable offices to the lowest bidder, instead of selling them 
to the highest, as is said to have been done elsewhere in later days. But I have 
been sorry to discover in the rapid increase of the sexton's salary, a marked 
instance of the growing extravagance of our fathers, and of the rapaciousness 
of the office diokiers among them. The salary of the sexton rose rapidly from 
twenty-five dollars a year in 1S10, to forty dollars in iSiS, an alarming increase 
of sixty per cent, in only eight years. 

Excepting some inconsiderable repairs in 1S1 7-18, nothing more was done 
to our second meeting-house for about thirty yeais. An act of the legislature, 
passed in 1S19, generally known as the "Toleration Act," gradually put an end 
to town ministries and removed the support of clergymen to the religious 
societies over which they were settled. 2 

Two new societies had been already formed in Concord, when this became a 
a law, viz: the Episcopal in 1S17, and the First Baptist in 1S1S. Five years 
later, on the 29th July, 1824, the First Congregational Society, in Concord, was 
formed, and upon the resignation of our third minister, Dr. McFarland, July 
11, 1824, the town ministry in Concord ceased. 

; :e materials made use of for each and every part were suitable, and of good quality, and that the work 
U done iu u handsome, workmanlike manner. 

[Jacol Abbott, 
[ Bexjamik Emery, 
Committee. <( John I'lax< hard, 
I John Kimball, 
Coxcord, June 3, 1S03 I.Exoch Brows." 

—Town Records, Vol. 2, page 276. 

1 Among our early sextons was Sherburn Wiggin in 1810; Renjamin Emery, Jr., in 1S11 and 181-', to 
Thorn the bell ringing was venJiud as rise bidders. Subsequently the appointment of sextons 

is left to the selectmen. Among the later incumbents ot this otiicc were Peter 0^ 'ood, Thomas B. 
Sargent and Joseph Brown. 

2 An act of thedjegislature "regulating towns and town officers," passed February 8, 1791, provided, 
'" 1 i i a. t tne inhabitants of eu:h town iu tnis state, qualified to vote u- aCoreruiJ, at any meeting duly and 

gaily warned and holden in such town, may, agreeably to the constitution, grant and vote such s ira 
sums of money as they shall judge necessary for the settlement, maintenance and support of the 
i unistry." 

A subsequent ace approved July 1, 1819, repealed this provision of tlie act of 1791 wd left t'^e support 
fl tile ministry to bu provided for by the religious societies of towns. 



This important change, together with the organization of new societies, made 
advisable the disposal of the town's interest in the meeting-house, meeting- 
house lot and bell. 1 A committee of the town, appointed March n, 1S20, 
for this purpose, accordingly sold the town's interest in these to the First 
Congregational Society, in Concord, for eight hundred dollars.- In considera- 
tion of the fact that the bell was to be very largely used for the benefit of all 
its citizens, the town subsequently remitted three hundred dollars of this 
amount. 3 

But still again, in 1S2S, the congregation had outgrown its venerable sanctu- 
ary and the demand for more room became imperative. After much discus- 
sion, a committee was appointed on the sixteenth day of April of this year, to 
alter the square pews, on the lower floor of the old part of the house, into slips. -1 

1 March 13, 1826. " Vot 
tee to take into consideratio 
in the nieeting-huuse to tin 

terms at the next town nice! 

■d, th 
1 the 

A. Kei 

t, Jo-eph Walker an ! Abo] Hutchins be a commit- 
> selling the interest or right the town may have 
congregational S iciety in Concord and report the expediency and 
■Town Iiecord&, Vol. 3, page 58. 


abject r 

2 This committee reported recommending the sale of the 

Land on which the house stands for, $300.00 

Town's interest in the meeting-house, 200.00 

Town's interest in the bell 300.00 

— §800.00 

March 11, 1828. •'Voted, that Samuel Herbert, Benjamin Parker and Isaac Eastman be a committee 
to sell and convey to the Fir_-t Congregational society in Concord the Interests the town have in the 
meeting-house, the laud on. which i. stands, and the bell, agreeably to the report of the committee to 
the town at the last animal meeting, and that they be hereby authorized to sell and convey the same to 
said society." — To ton Records, Vol. 5. ,■> igs 98. 

July 26,1828'.. The x<r>v\i of Concord, b\ .samuel Herbert, Uenjamin Parker and Isaac Eastman, a 
committee duty authorized, conveyed to the First Congregational Society in Concord, -'ah the right, 
title and interest we have in and auto a certain tract of land situate in said Concord, being me same 
land on which the meeting-house occupied by said society now stands, described as follows, to wit: 
Extending from the south si !e of ;:ul house a< lirst built, six rod-: south; from the east end of said 
house, six rods east; from the north side of said house, six rods north; and from the west end of said 
house to the original reserve for a road by the burying ground, including the land on which said house 
stand?, together with said house and the bell attached to the same, reserving a highway on the south 
side of said house where it now is not less than four rods wide, aud also at the west end of said house, 
:>.nd reserving the right to have said bell tolled ar funerals and rung as usual on week days and on pub- 
lic occasions ; no shed to be erected on said land except on the north tide of said house." — Merrimack 
Records, Vol. 15, page 3 SO. 

3 November 14, 1S28. " Voted that the selectmen lie and are hereby authorized to endorse the sum 
of three hundred dollars on a note the town holds against the First Congregational Society in Concord, 
being the same which was relinquished for the bell." — Town Records, Vol. 3, page 121. 

4 Number and owners of [ 
house in Concord, in Ju-e, ISi 

on the lower floor of the First Congregational Society's meeting 
gether with the time when and to whom transferred : 


1 Society's free pew. 

2 Jacob A. Potter. 

3 Jonathan Eastman & William West. 

4 Mary Ann S'.ickney. 

5 Abial and Henry liolfe. 
Richard Herbert. 

7 John Eastman. 

8 Ephrahn Abbott. 

9 Isaac Virgin. 

10 Jiazen Virgin. 

11 Timothy Cuandler. 

12 JohnOdliu 

33 Charles Walker, 

li Lnbutt Page. 

15 Thomas l). Fotter & Lucy Davis. 

16 John West & Theodore French. 

17 Khoda Kimball. 
IS Patty Green. 

19 Moses Bullen. 

20 E. and C. Emery's heirs. 

21 Nathan Chandler, Jr. 

22 Harriet lireed. 

23 Abel Baker. 

24 Reuben Goodwin & Samuel Carter. 

25 Nathaniel Eastman & [suae Emery. 
2G Nathaniel Ambrose & .Simeon Virgir 
27 Henry Chandler & John Corlis. 

26 Henry Martin & Isaac F. Fcniu. 

29 Ephraim Farnum. 

30 Robert Dav is. 
81 Isaac Farnniu. 

Society's pew. 

Samuel Fletcher. 

Oliver L. Sanborn. 

Thos. D. Potter & D. L. Morrill. 

D. N. Hoyt. 

James Sanborn. 
Sewell Hoit. 

Eenj.miu Parker. 


2 / o 

This change increased the number of paws from ninety-nine to one hundred 
and ten, and raised the number of sittings to about twelve hundred and fifty. 
The east, south and west wall pews remained as they were. The following plan 
shows the arrangement at this time of the aisles and seats upon the ground floor. 


32 Asa Abbott. Robert Davis. 

33 Thomas V>. Sargent. 
3-1 Nathan Mallard, Jr. 

35 Susanna Walker. 

36 Hubert Davis. Win. Abbott. 
\ 37 Abial Walker. 

38 Abial Walker & Nathaniel Abbot. A. B. Kelley, 

30 Benjamin II. Swett. 

•10 Society's Few. Nathaniel Abbott. 

41 Joseph Fariium. Abial Walker. 

42 Ezra Ballard. 

43 Timothy Carter. 

44 Abner Parnmn. 

45 Moses Farnura. 
4<i Moses Carter. 

47 Samuel 15. Davis & A. B. Davis. 

48 James Buswell, Proctor. 

49 Richard Aver, E. S. Towle. 
j 50 Charles Eastman. 

51 Isaac Dow. 

52 James Ea-tman. 

53 Daniel Fisk. 

54 Kicbard Flanders & Sons. 

55 Betsev & Hannah Whitney. 

56 JohnDimond. S. A. Kimball. 

57 John George. 
53 ' Moses Shute. 

o'J George Hutchins." James Straw. 

00 Jonathan Ambrose. 

CI John Lovejoy. 

02 Thomas Potter. 

03 Eliza Abbott. 
64 Isaac Shute. 

05 Jonathan Wilkins. Ivory Hall. 

0'3 Abial Eastman." 

07 John Eastman. 

OS Milieu Kimball. 

6'J John Putney. State of New Hampshire. 

70 Margaret Dow. Dr. Colby. 

71 Samuel .Morrill. 

72 Samuel A. Kimball. 

73 Asapb Evans. 

74 Pamuel Fletcher. 

75 Richard Bradlev. 
7G Moses Hall. 

77 Jeremiah Pecker. 

78 Enoch Coffin. 
70 Joseph Eow. 

to Isaac Hill & Wm. Kurd. 

51 Charles llutchins. 

62 Abel llutchins. 

53 Joseph Eastman. Jacob Clough. 

54 Joseph Eastman. Simeon Famum. 


ijosenji r,as 

Jacob Hoit. 

5G Frye. Williams. 

57 Samuel Herbert. 

68 William A. Kent. 

SO William Stickney. 

00 John (jl>\ er. 

PI Orlando Brown k Sarah Dearborn. 

92 Richard Aver. 

93 Nathaniel Abbott. 

to Elizabeth McFarland. 

05 George Kent. 

0G Stephen Ambrose. 

07 Simeon & lieniamin Kimball. 

OS Jonathan Wilkins. 

W Parsonage. 



'.-J'- 1 -'- -^ 

.:_■-.- . ._ . . - 


i r 


It is a notable fact that very soon after the meeting-house had attained its 
greatest capacity, its congregations began to rapidly diminish. This was due 
to the formation of other religious societies. The number of regular members 
which in 1825 was two hundred and twenty-two, had fallen in 1833 to one hun- 
dred and seventy-three, and the audiences had decreased correspondingly. 
Besides those who had withdrawn to form new organizations of other denom- 
inations, there began, in the year last named, a farther exodus of members to 
form the West Concord society. This was followed by another in 1837, to lay 
the foundations of the South society. These had reduced its membership in 
1841 to one hundred and five. The next year, the East Concord members left 
and formed the Congregational society in that village. Thus, quartered and 
diminished in its membership more than one half, we can readily see that the 
remnant, with its families, was insufficient to fill the great structure of which it 
now found itself the sole possessor. 

Its fifty great windows, each with its forty panes of glass, looked more staring 
than ever before, and rattled, when the wind blew, as they had never rattled 
before. The voice of the minister reverberated through the vast area, and his 
eye sought in vain, upon the floor and in the galleries, the dense ranks of men, 
women and children, numbering some ten or twelve hundred, which had been 
wont to greet him. 

We are not, therefore, surprised to find, as we turn over the well kept records 
of the society, that there came one day (March 17, 1841), before a meeting of 
its members, a proposition to leave the old sanctuary and build a new and smaller 
one. This, after long consultations and various delays, caused in part by differ- 
ences of preference as to location, resulted in the erection of our third meeting- 
house, at the corner of Main and Washington streets. 

But before leaving the old house for the new one, the members of the several 
societies which, from time to time, had gone out therefrom, met within its con- 


secrated walls, and, after prayer, and song, and ;■'-.> v.-.t reminiscences, bade it 
farewell forever. 1 

This imperfect sketch would be still more so snouIJ I neglect a passing allu- 

• sion to some of the assemblies, other than religious, convened from time to time 
in our second meeting-house. _ 

As early as 1778, a convention was here hold en to form a plan of government 

\ for the state of New Hampshire. 

'Hie first time the legislature ever met in Concorvi March 13, 17S2, it assem- 
bled in this house. 2 Owing, however, to the cold, .: adjourned for that session 
to another building temporarily prepared for its accommodation. 3 From the 
year 1782, onward to 1790, when our first town-house was built, were held in 
our second meeting-house no less than fifteen sessions oi the General Court. 

The adjournment, just alluded to, suggests the fact that for two centuries 
after coming to this country, our New England ancestors had no fires in their 
sanctuaries. .They accepted the weather as God sent it and were content. If 
in summer, the sun shining through great unshaded windows, dazzled their eyes, 
they contracted their eyebrows and bore it, either with winking or without, as 
individual preferences suggested. If in winter the cold in God's house was 

i intense, they shrugged their shoulders, worked their toes, and, so far as they 
could, got carnal warmth from the fervor of their devotions. But it must have 
been very chilly lor the ungodly on such occasions. That at the noon inter- 
mission such should have sought spiritual invigoratioa at Hanaford's Tavern near 
by, may have been inexcusable, but it was not inconsistent with the native 

■' depravity of that time. 

Means of warming were introduced into the old North meeting-house in 
182 1. 4 A moderate sized box-stove was placed in the broad aisle, which had a 
very long funnel, which was taken through the ceiling to a very short chimney in 

j the attic. 

This central warmer proved but partially satisfactory, and may have operated 
like a similar one in the meeting-house of another town, which was said 

1 •• Previous to leaving the old North meeting-house as a place of public worship, a union meeting 
ol' the four Congi egatioual churches in town was held in it. file meeting was attended two successive 

S dav< via.: -Thursday '27th and Friday 28 th of September, in which the several pastors, took part, viz.: 
I ' ReV/Asa'p. Tenhevof the West 'church; Rev. Daniel J. Xoyes of the South church; Rev. Timothy 
Morgan preacher at East church; and the pastor oi' the First church. In the forenoon of Friday, the 
pastor preached a discourse on reminiscences of the old meeting-house. In the afternoon, about five 
l hundred and frftv communicants, belonging 10 the four lister churches, sa: down to the Lord's Supper. 
It was a reason of tender and affecting interest. Many wept at the thought of a separation from the 
place where they and their fathers had so long worshipped."— iiotitttn's History of Concord, page 4J3. 

2 The General Assembly, in session at Exeter, voted on the twelfth day of January, 178?, "That 
I when the business of this' session is finished, the General Court be adjourned to meet at Concord, at 

such time as shall be agreed upon by the said Genera! Court. "—Provincial Papers, vol. 8, page 930. 

The tradition i> that Col. Timothv Walker, then a member oi the House from Concord, remarked to 
Borae of the members who were coiuplaiuing of the treatment which .« hey had received at their boarding- 
houses thai if the General Assembly would hold its next session at Concord they should be us well 
accommodated as at Kxeter and for "half the money, fhereupon the Assembly adjourned to Concord. 

Upon his return home, the Colonel informed his neighbors of his promise and the consequences 

thereof and that at its next session all must open their houses for the accommodation of the members 

of the General Court. This they at onte agreed to do, and subsequently did, to general satisfaction. 

Since then, fourty-four sessions of the General Court have been held in Concord, up to ,1810, when it 

s became the capital of the state. 

3 The hall fitted up for this occasion was in the second story of the house now standing on the 
west «ide of Main street, next north of the house of Kuoeli Gerrisii. At that time, it stood upon the 

I east Bide of the street and a few rods south of its present location. 

4 A? I can never forget the faces within, so I never can the furious winds which howled about the 
ancient pile, the cold by which it was penetrated, and the stamping of men and women when within the 
porche* as they came from afar, and went direct from tin ir sleighs to an immense apartment in which 
there was no tire, exci pt that carried thither in foot-stoves. rattling of a multitude of loose win- 

Idows,iuy tin-din- fee:, the breath of people seen across the house, as the smoke of chimneys is discerned 
"a frosty mornings, the impatience of the congregation, and the rapidity of their dispersion,— are they 
'!!>' all upon the memor, or those who worshipped in th st house previous to the year 1821? J hen my 
father su <" r ested that in' winter there be only one sen ice, which led to the purchase of a moderate-sized 
box-stoveTand its erection half way up the central aisle. Tnis, strange as it may seem, was a departure 
from old 'cusioru whicu eo«ouutered «oiu« opposition.— Jiiography and Jtecollcctiona by A$a AfcFar* 
l<wl s page 104. 


to have driven all the cold air from the middle of the house to the sides, rendering 
the wail pews more uncomfortable than ever before. The introduction of a 
stove into a meeting-house often met great opposition and caused serious com- 
motion. The excitement raised by the setting up of a stove in the meeting- 
house at Webster, in 1S32, was quieted only by a general agreement, embodied 
in a vote passed at a regular meeting of the society, ,: to dispense with a fire in 
the stove the first Sabbath in each month through the cold season." 1 

Before the introduction of the stove, many among the more delicate portion 
of the congregation had sought a slight mitigation of the frosts in God's house 
by the use of •Moot-stoves." These continued in quite general use so long as 
our society worshipped in this house. The heat of such a warmer came from a 
pan of coals inclosed in a box of tin. No man here present, who was a boy 
forty or fifty years ago, will ever forget the Sunday labor imposed upon him in 
cold weather by the filling and carrying back and forth of one o( these. The 
stern fathers of the previous generation may, very likely, have regarded them as 
vanities, and this Sunday labor as unnecessary and sinful. To this good Puritan 
opinion, J doubt not that the bay? who had mastered the catechism, and the 
families in the immediate vicinity of the meeting-house levied upon for coals, 
would have readily assented. 

It was in our second meeting-house that the New Hampshire State Conven- 
tion was holden, on the 21st day of June, 1788, which, as the ninth assembled 
for that purpose, ratified the Federal Constitution and started upon its glorious 
career the government of the United States. In this house was also held the 
conventions of 1 791-2, to revise the constitution of the state. 

Fourteen times from 1 7S4 to 1 S06 did the legislature march in formal pro- 
cession to this house, to hear the annual election sermon, which preceded its 
organization, and every year afterwards, until t S3 r, when the sermon was dis- 
continued. Thirty-nine of all the election sermons preached before the legisla- 
ture of New Hampshire were delivered in this house, and three of them by 
pastors of this church. 2 

From 1765 to 1790, a period of twenty-five years, all annual and special 
town -meetings were held in this meeting-house. Here our townsmen, many of 
whom rarely, if ever, met on other occasions except for divine worship, as- 
sembled to exchange friendly greetings and discharge their civil duties as Amer- 
ican citizens. Here, also, protracted religious meetings were held from time to 
time, the most memorable of which was that of 1831. Here important ad- 
dresses were delivered to large assemblies on fourth of July and other occasions 
of general interest. Here in 1835 was delivered before the General Court a 
eulogy on Gen. Lafayette, by Nathaniel G. Upham. Here were held conven- 
tions for the promation of temperance. Here occurred, in 1834 and 1835, the 
memorable trials of Abraham Prescott, for the murder of Mrs. Sally Cochran, 
of Pembroke. Here was had that sharp political encounter between Franklin 
Pierce and John P. Hale upon the latter's leaving the Democratic party in 1S45. 
The walls of no other house in New Hampshire resounded to so many lotty 
flights of eloquence as did those of our second meeting-house, from 1751 to 

A few years after its abandonment, this ancient structure was sought by the 
trustees of the Methodist General Biblical Institute as the seat of that institu- 
tion, which it was proposed to remove from Newbury, Vermont, to this city. 
This society and the pewholders cheerfully conveyed to them their several inter- 
ests in the building and lot, and public-spirited citizens of Concord subscribed 
some three thousand dollars for so remodelling the house as to suit the new 

1 Coffin's History of Bjso.r.ven and Webster, paj»e238. 

2 The election sermon wis preached by our secon 1 pastor, Rev. Israel Evans, in 1701; by our third 
pastor, Itev. Dr. Asa McFarland, in 1803; and by oar fourth piutor, Uev. Dr. Nathaniel Bouton, in 1823, 


- .?• o 

• , se to which it was to be devoted. The pulpit, pews and galleries were re- 
R i ived ', a second floor was introduced, and the two siorics, thereby secured, 
vere divided into dormitories and lecture rooms. 1 It continued the seat of the 
. ute until its removal to Boston, when, in accordance with terms of its con- 
veyance, twenty years Before, it reverted, with the land upon which it stood, to 
I .. First Congregational Society of Concord. It was subsequently sold to pri- 
vatf parlies, and the proceeds of its sate were devoted to the purchase of the 
society's parsonage. With sad hearts its many friends afterward saw it degraded 
to a tenement house of a low order. But its desecration was brief. On the 
night of Monday, November 28th, 1870, the purifying angel wrapped a mantle 
of flame about it arid transported it heavenward upon a chariot of fire. 

Not long afterwards the Union School District purchased the site of it, and 
reared thereon one of the fairest school-houses of which this, or any other New 
Hampshire town, can boast. It bears upon its south facade a tablet with the 
following inscription : 

^.MJvEU SCffQQ£ 











IN 17SS 



FROM 1847 TO 1 86 7 








A. D. 1S73. 


Our third meeting-house was a less imposing edifice than our second one. 
The diminished membership of the society called for a smaller house of wor- 
ship. Rarely before, and never since, has its pecuniary ability been less than at 
that time. The general drift of population also demanded a more southerly 
location. But many had a strong attachment to the old spot and to the old 
sanctuary. Some, therefore, proposed the remodelling of the latter, while others 
suggested the erection of a new house upon the site of it. But the majority 
opinion favored both a new location and a new house. Two subscription papers, 
which were then circulated, indicate the preferences of different members of 

1 A portion of the pulpit is in possession of the New Hampshire Historical Society. 



the society. That for a new house upon the old lot, dated November 20th, 
184,1, contains the names of forty-three persons, subscribing for eighty-two 
shares. 1 The other, dated April 7, 1842, for a new house at the corner of 
Main and Washington streets had upon it the names of thirty-nine signers, 
agreeing to take- one hundred ami three shares. 2 

After repeated meetings and protracted deliberations, the new location was 
adopted. The deed of it to Nathaniel Abbot, Shadrack Seavey, James Buswell, 
James Moultom Jr., and Jonathan E. Lang, the committee to build the new 
'house, bears date May 16, 1S42. The sum paid i'or it was thirteen hundred 

Hie plan of our third meeting-house was in general conformity to the style 
of such structures then prevailing in New England. It was of one story with a 
bell-tower and steeple forming a part of the facade. It d the east and was 
eighty feet in length and fifty feet in width. It had long, square-topped windows 
upon the sides and a slightly projecting porch in front, whose roof rested upon 
four plain, round columns, some twenty-five feet high. The corner-stone was 
laid and the frame raised July 4, 1842. It was dedicated on the twenty-third 
day of November of the same year. When completed, it was a comely enough 
structure of wood, in a ubiquitous coating of white paint, which, we are happy 

1 This subscription paper read-! as foil 
believing that the interests and future pi 
requires the erection of a new house for p 
new house of worship for said society by t 
ively, and pav the sum of fifty dollars for < 
mittee, hereafter to be chosen by the stibsc 
all necessary contracts for the erection of 
now owned by said society and the same o 

Concord, Nov. 20, 1S41. 
Subscribers' vames. 

jws, viz.: "We the. undersigned, inhabitants of Concord, 
osperity of the First Congregational Society in Concord 
iblic worship, do hereby agree to aid in the erection of a 
Lking the number of shares set against our name-: respect - 
•aeh and every share we may have subscribed for to a com- 
ribers, for the purpose of purchasing materials and making 
i new house of worship. The house to be located on laud 
i which the house now occupied by said society now standi. 

No. of 

Abie! Walker, 
F.N. Fisk, 
K. Bradler, 

S. Collin, 
Nath. Abbot, 
R. E. Pecker, 
Joint. E. Lang, 
Sarah A. Virgin, 
Samuel Herbert, 
Albert Herbert, 
Ezra Ballard, 
Nathan Ballard, 
John Flanders, 
Eben Fisk, 
Abira Fisk, 
Samuel Morrill, 
Daniel Knowlton, 


Subscribers'' names. 


D. N. Holt, 


E. Roby, 

James Woolson, 


Ivory Hall, 


James Buswell, 


Lawrence Cooled^ 


Benja Farmun, 


Shadrack Seavey, 


. Jacob Flanders, 


Moses Shute, 


John Corlis, 


Isaac Proctor, 


Joseph S. Abbot, 


Nathan K. Abbot 



No. of shares. 




Original on file in Society archives. 

2 Upon this paper were the following names aud number of shares, viz. 
" Samuel Coffin, 

Richard Bradley, 

F. N. Fisk, 

Nat Id Abbot, 

J. E. Bang, 

S. Seavey, 

Samuel Morrill, 

James Buswell, 

R. E. Pecker, 

D. N. Hoyt, 
James Woolson, 
J. Cooledge, 
S. Herbert, 
N. Bouion, 
B. Whitney, 

E. Hall, 
E. Philbrick, 
Albert Herljcri, 
Ivory Hall, 
Joseph Tow, 


J. C Orclway, 

1 shar 


Mary A. Stickney, 




Danl Knowlton, 




B. Farrtum, 




1). A. Hill, 




Porter Blanchard, 




Jno. Eastman, 




Sarah Kimball, 




Joshua Sanborn, 



2 " 

G. W. Ehi, 




A. Fowler, 




H. M. Moore, 



2 " 

Sewell Hoit, 




James Buswell for C 





Ira Perley, 




Franklin Pierce, 




Mary C. Herbert, 




Jos. Eastman, 





Brot forward, 


103 s 


Original on file in 



/ archive* 


to know, is no longer the only orthodox color for an orthodox meeting-house. 
It had an audience room seventy feet long, forty-eight and a half feet wide, 

and twenty Tour feet high A hroj.6 aisle extended through the middle of it, 
from the vestibule to the pulpit, and there was one of a less width, but of the 
same length, next to the north and south walls. The singing gallery was over 
the vestibule. Its length corresponded with the width of the church. It was 
ten feet deep and about fourteen feet high. The pulpit was a neat, mahogany 
structure. 1 On each each side of it was a single tier of pews extending to the 
wall. In front of it were four tiers. The whole number of pews was eighty- 
eight, affording about four hundred and fifty sittings. The following fio 
shows the arrangement of pews, aisles and vestibule : 


!" ;•; 






T «• 


1 » 














7 J 

















i >°* 








1 " 



(,-j. ..:■-:■-... arassu 




| 9 



U ' 





1 <* 

3» J 13 




' „ 





3 3 

1 K 












1 i 










MB HOI ■ :-- 

SET** Ce 








In 1848 this house was enlarged by an addition of fifteen feet at the west end. 
This gave room for twenty additional pews and raised its seating capacity to 
about six hundred. A little later, its glaring white walls were frescoed, and the 
blaze of the sun through the windows was softened by the introduction of inside 
blinds. On the front of the gallery was a round-faced clock, which, rarely kept 

1 This which whs made by Porter Blanchard and Sons, was a few years since gl 
Concord Congregational society andis still in use. 

10 the Lust 


the ninth commandment, and fortunately was visible only to the minister, except 
during the singing, when the congregation arose, turned their hacks to the pulpit, 
and "faced the music." 

Until the formation of the South Congregational Society, in 1837, evening 
religious meetings were held in the town hall. After the withdrawal of persons 
belonging to that society, this room was found too large for such meetings and 
they were ere long transferred to rooms in the Merrimack County Bank building, 
now belonging to the New Hampshire Historical Society. These, however, 
proved as much too small as the town -hall had been too large, and the want of 
a suitable chapel became so imperative that, on the fourteenth day of March, 
1855, the pastor, Dr. Bouton, addressed to the society a communication setting 
forth its importance and tendering a subscription of fifty dollars towards its 
erection. About the same lime the Ladies' Sewing Circle sent another, tender- 
ing a contribution of four hundred and fifty dollars for the same object. 

In response to these generous offers, the society passed a suitable vote of 
thanks ; but no decisive action upon the subject was taken until its annual meet- 
ing on the seventeenth of March, 185S. At this time Shadrack Seavey, Dr. 
E C :r and Moses H. Bradley were made a committee ''to consider the 
subject of providing a vestry for the accommodation of the society and to 
report at an adjourned meeting." 

About a month later, on the 12th of April, 1S58, another committee, previous- 
ly appointed, reported that, "in their belief a vestry suitable for the use of the 
society can be erected upon the land belonging to the society in rear of the 

On the twenty-sixth of the same month, Leonard Holt, for the last committee, 
submitted a plan for a chapel, which was approved, and the committee were 
directed "to circulate papers and obtain subscriptions for the building." 

The committe were so far successful that, on the 31st of May following, they, 
together with the prudential committee of the society, were directed to proceed 
to its location and erection upon the west part of the church lot. The work 
was at once commenced and prosecuted to completion in the autumn of 185S. 
It was dedicated, soon after, by appropriate services to the uses for which it was 
intended. On that occasion the pastor expressed a hope that extemporaneous 
speech might prevail within its walls, and that written discourses might attract 
attention by their absence only. 

It became too small for us ere long, and was enlarged by an addition 
to the north end, which affords a kitchen and dining-room, for use on social 
occasions. In June, 1873, it came near meeting the fate of our third meeting- 
house, and was partially burned. But it was subsequently repaired, and is in 
active sen ice still. 

In 1 85 5, largely through the efforts of Mr. Reuben L. Foster, a subscription 
of nearly fifteen hundred dollars ($ 1,467.10) was made, by members of the so- 
ciety, to provide for the meeting-house a steeple clock, and to inclose its lot up- 
on the east and south sides by a stone and iron fence. 

Some years later (1869), upon the introduction of a new organ, the singer's 
gallery was lowered and remodelled, the audience room was ventilated, the 
pews were repainted, and the walls and ceilings frescoed anew. 

By these alterations and repairs the interior of our third meeting-house was 
made both convenient and agreeable. It continued without further change un- 
til the morning of Sunday, June 29th, 1873, when, like its predecessor, it was 
seized by devouring flames and translated. 1 

[to ke continued.] 

IThe fire was communicated to the meeting-house from the carriage shopi of Mr. Samuel M. Griffin. 
near by upon the north, which had been lired bv an insane person possessed with the idea of clearing a 
site at the corner of Main and Washington streets lbr a splendid Spiritual temple, lie was soon after 
arrested and committed to the Asylum for the Insane. 



RICHARD Taft was born in "Carre. Vt.. March 14. 1812. and died at Little- 
ton. N. H., February 14th, 1SS1. At the age of nine, lie removed to Alstead. 
X. 11. . where he remained on a tuna til! 1S30, when he was employed in a hotel at 
North Chelmsford. Mass. In two years lie became a partner. He was afterwards 
landlord of the Washington House! Nashua. N. M.. and then of a hotel in Tyngs- 
borough.Mass. From IS 14 to 1849. he was the lessee and landlord of the Washington 
House in Lowell. Mass. Since June 30, 1349, his life has been closely associated 
with the history of ! the Franco-nla mountain cou'itry. At thai time he opened the 
Flume House. Travel had then hardly begun. Bristol was the nearest point that 
could be reached by rail, and there were only a few small hotels in the whole region. 
The Lafayette House at Franconia Notch had been opened bur a short time by the 
elder Gibbsand his son. The price of hoard was then 51.50 per day and the whole 
receipts of his first season were only 81800. 

Says Mr. William C. Prime in the N. Y. Journal of Commerce : "Mr. Taft was a man 
of exceedingly quiet demeanor, but of great ability, foresight and cautious energy. 
New Hampshire owes to him a debt which it will never be .able to repay, for the results 
accomplished by his example, advice and personal labor in the mountain conn try. 
He was withal a man on whom every one relied: a man of the most unswerving 
probity of character. To use an expression which Mas constantly applied to him, 
' Mr Taft was never known to go back on his word.' lie commanded the respect 
and confidence of all men. For many years past, though enfeebled by constant 
illness, he has continued to lead in all the improvements of the White Mountain 

He was always keenly alive to the wonderful beauties of the Franconia Notch 
and never for a moment wavered in his faith in their attractions. It was one of the 
compensations of Ins last illness that he was permitted to again behold its glories 
and to inhale its pure and vivifying air. 

Business at the Flume House increased from year to year, and in the fall of 1552, 
with his associates, he began the building of the Profile House, which was com- 
pleted and opened to the public in July the following year, since which time he has 
been one of the principal managers and the largest owner in both hotels. The Pro- 
file House has been greatly enlarged from its original dimensions, and is now one of 
the largest mountain house?- in the country. The wonderful success which has at- 
tended it the public generally know. Probably no man in the United States has 
ever really enjoyed hotel keeping any better than Mr. Taft, and very likely few as 
well. His modesty of deportment was extreme, and only a few of the multitude 
who visited the Profile House ever saw him to know him. His chosen field of action 
was the interior of the house, away from the bus}' bustle of the front office, und 
where as general manager, and especially as steward, lie displayed those conspicu- 
ous abilities which have made him a prince among landlords. The hotel firm for 
four years, beginning in 1885, was Taft. Tyler & Greenleaf. but for the; past twelve 
years has been Taft & Greenleaf. Mr. Taft was one of the proprietors of the Pro- 
file and Franconia Notch Railroad, and at his death was the president of the com- 
pany. He was recognized by all as a man of great worth and sterling integrity, 
kind and just in all his intercourse with his fellowmen, generous and benevolent to 
a fault. His memory will live long in the hearts of his friends and associates. 
Being an invalid for many years he became a great student. He was familiar with 
the poets, and was well read in history and in the arts and sciences. For the past 
nine months, he was confined to the house. Deceased leaves a wife and one daugh- 
ter, Mrs. Charles F. Eastman of Littleton, N. II. . two sisters, and a brother, Denison 
Taft of Monr.pelier, Vt. 

The funeral services were conducted by Rev. J. S. Black of Montreal, at the house 
of his son-in-law. where he died. He left a legacy of $1000 to the New Hampshire 
Orphans' Home at Franklin, the income only to be used. 





"The far-off sound of holy bells." 

How sweet the chimes this Sunday morn, 
'Mid autumn's requiem, 

Across the mountain valleys borne, — 
The bells of Bethlehem ! 

Come join with us," they seem to say, 

And celebrate this hallowed day !" 

Our hearts leap up with glad accord — 
Judea's Bethlehem strain, 

That once ascended to the Lord, 
Floats back to earth again, 

As round our hilis the echoes swell 

To "God with us, Emmanuel !" 

O Power Divine, that led the star 
To Mary's sinless child ! 

O ray from heaven that beamed afar 
And o'er his cradle smiled ! 

Help us to worship now with them 

Who hailed the Christ at Bethlehem ! 


co. #T J/i&mAftfc. 





Vol. IV 

APRIL, 1881 

So. 7 


One of the most affable and genial 
gentlemen of the old school is Judge 
N'esmith, of Franklin, or. more widely. 
of New Hampshire. His years sit light- 
ly upon him. An honorable man, a just 
judge, a kindly neighbor, a good citi- 
zen, and a ripe scholar, he can calmly 
sit in his well-appointed library, sur- 
rounded by his well-loved book; and 
mementoes of the past, and review a 
well-spent life, crowned with honors. 
He is of pure Scotch-Irish descent. In 
him are united the families of the old 
Covenanters, the defenders of London- 
derry, the hardy pioneers of New Eng- 
land, the heroes of Runker Hill, and 
the strict Presbyterians ; the Nesmiths, 
the McKeans, the Dinsmores, and the 
luckeys. He comes of a brave and 
cultured race, 


I. James Nesmith was born in coun- 
ty Antrim. Ireland, in the valley of the 
Bann, in the year 1692, about two years 
jfter his parents, coming from Scotland, 
had settled there. In 1 714, he married 
^hznbeth, daughter of James and Janet 
(Cochran) McKean, who was his com- 
panion for nearly half a century. James 
Nesmith was one of the signers of the 
memorial to Gov. Shute, March 26, 
J7i8, one of the proprietors of London- 
" cr ry, and one of the original sixteen 

zirl'v* , a , ccoll »* is taken from the History of An- 
•*». by Ifey, W> E> Cochrane. 

who made the first settlement of that 
town. April 22, 1719. James Nesmith 
was a strong man, respected and hon- 
ored by his associates, and an elder in the 
church. He died in 1767. 

2. James Nesmith, Jr., son of James 
I and Elizabeth (McKean) Nesmith, was 

born in Ireland, in T718, shortly before 
the embarkation of his parents for Amer- 
ica. He married Mary Dinsmore, and 
settled in Londonderry. Although be- 
yond the military age, he took an active 
part in the struggle for independence, 
and was present at the battle of Bunker 
Hill, at the siege of Boston, and at Ben- 
nington. He died at home, July 15, 


3. Jonathan Nesmith, son of James 
and Mary (Dinsmore) Nesmith, was 
born in Londonderry, in August, 1759. 
At the age of sixteen he commenced to 
clear a lot in Antrim, and permanently 
settled there in 1778. He was one of 

j the leading spirits of the town, an elder 
I of the Presbyterian church from its for- 

mation, a selectman for eleven years, 


j and a representative four terms. For 
I fifty years he missed but one commun- 
| ion. He was genial, jolly, good-natured, 
and enjoyed a joke ; was very hospit- 
able and benevolent ; anxious for the 
public welfare ; stoutly in earnest to 
maintain the faith of his fathers. He 
was a man of strong ability, good judg- 
ment, irreproachable character, and an 
honor to the town he helped to estab- 



lish. He married Elenor, daughter of 
Adam and Jane (Strahan) Dickey, of 
Londonderry, and grand -daughter of 
John and Margaret Dickey, of London- 
derry, Ireland. She was born January 
i, 1:761, and died September 17, 1.818. 
He died at the age of eighty-six, Octo- 
ber 15, 1 845. 

4. George Washington Nesmith, son 
of Jonathan and Elenor (Dickey) Nes- 
mith, was born in Antrim, October 23, 


His father's residence in Antrim was 
situate a mile from the district school 
house, and the distance and his lame- 
ness interfered with his early attend- 
ance. Miss Katherine Miller, a sister 
of Gen. James Miller, later, wife of John 
Caldwell, of Antrim, led him through 
the rudiments as found in Noah Web- 
ster's spelling-book. She was an ami- 
able and kind woman, well calculated 
to gain the affections of children. The 
other teachers who helped to mould his 
character were Miss Lucinda Lawrence, 
of Ashby, Mass., Miss Fanny Baldwin, 
afterwards wife of Dr. Israel Burnham, 
and Miss Anstress Woodbury, a sister of 
Hon. Levi Woodbury, who in later years 
married Hon. Neherniah Eastman, and 
became the early friend and patron of 
Llenry Wilson in his boyhood. In the 
winter of 1810 he received instruction 
from J. Miltimore, of West Newbury ; 
in 181 1, from Joshua Holt, of Green- 
field ; and in 1S12, 1813 and 18 14, 
from Daniel M. Christie. In early life, 
in the school room, Mr. Christie gave 
evidence of superior ability as an in- 
structor, and ranked as a model school- 
master. He was an able mathematician, 
and could lead a class through the in- 
tricacies of figures with consummate 

In May, 18 14, the boy was sent from 
home and placed, at Jaffrey, under the 
instruction of Henry Cummings. His 
companions were Luke Woodbury and 
Samuel Dakin, of Utica, New York ; the 
former for many years judge of probate, 
while the latter lived to see his five sons 
take degrees from his own alma mater, 
Hamilton College. To Rev. John M. 

Whilom minister at Antrim, was he 
chiefly indebted for his rapid progress 
in the classics and his early preparation 
to enter Dartmouth College. His course 
of four years embraced the stormy, 
threatening period when the legislature 
of the state attempted to overawe the 
iclomitable board of trustees. In the 
class of 1S20, with Judge Nesmith, were 
Hon. Nathan Crosby, of Lowell, Hon. 
George P. Marsh, and Hon. Nathaniel 
G. Upham. 

After graduation, he taught school at 
'The north end of Concord street" fo've 
months, and at the academy at Brad- 
ford. Vermont, eighteen months. He 
commenced the study of law with Par- 
ker Noyes in August, 1822. 

By the income derived from school- 
keeping, he .was enabled to pay off a 
large part of the expenses incurred at 
college. He commenced the study of 
the law under the depressing influence 
of poor health, but by adopting a rigid 
svstem of out-door exercise and manual 
labor, and strictly adhering to it for 
nearly two years, he regained his accus- 
tomed strength and vigor. The law 
business of Mr. Noyes was quite exten- 
sive, and required more than the ability 
and strength of one man to attend to. 
so that the hearty cooperation of the 
young law student was duly appreci- 
ated and handsomely recompensed. 
Mr. Nesmith was admitted to the bar 
in August, 1825, and immediately form- 
ed an equal partnership with Mr. Noyes 
which continued until, at the end o[ one 
year, the senior member of the firm 
withdrew from professional labor, on ac- 
count of sickness, and surrendered the 
whole business to Mr. Nesmith. The 
kindness and liberality of Mr. Noyes to 
the young lawyer on the threshold oi 
business life has ever been rightly ap- 
preciated by the recipient. 

The old law office stood in the lower 
village of Franklin, then Salisbury, no- 
known as the Webster Place. It was 
originally built about 1790, by Thomas 
W. Thompson. Its situation near the 
point where four of the five great coun- 
ties of the state cornered was well se- 
lected for legal business. Mr. Thomp- 
son was a good lawyer, but not a great 



advocate. His students acquired good, 
industrious habits and correct principles. 
They were: Moses Eastman, Daniel 
Websteri Ezekiel Webster. Daniel Abbot, 
Jeremiah H. Woodman-, Jacob McGaw 
and Parker Xoyes. Ichabod Bartlett, 
D. C. Atkinson, John A. Harper, Josiah 
Houghton, Peabody Rogers, and Wil- 
liam C. Thompson studied with Mr. 
Xoyes. To the last named Mr. Nesraith 
owed his invitation to leave his school 
in Bradford, Vermont, and enter the 
office consecrated to legal lore, as a stu- 
dent. Parker Noyes was Thomas W. 
Thompson's brother-in-law, and law 
partner from 1S01 ; and, about 1S07. 
succeeded to the business, when Mr. 
Thompson removed to Salisbury south. 

In April, 1829, Mr. Nesmith gave up 
the office at the lower village and re- 
moved to the upper village, where he 
has ever since resided. The old office 
is still in existence, reduced from its 
lofty station, and now doing duty as a 
neglected back kitchen, the law-tomes 
being replaced by the more humble 
pans and kettles. 

Mr. Nesmith at once took an active 
part in the affairs of his adopted home, 
and entered eagerly into the scheme to 
incorporate the territory from the four 
towns o( North held, Sanbomton, An- 
dover and Salisbury, into a township, 
when there would be a community of 
interest — the town of Franklin. The 
first petition was presented in 1824. 
The following year a viewing commit- 
tee, consisting of William Plumer, Jr., 
Caleb Keith and Abel Merrill, examin- 
ed the territory, and reported favorably 
in 1826. The legislature of that year 
rejected the application on the ground 
that a majority of the inhabitants within 
the territory in question were not in fa- 
vor of the new town. In June, 1828, 
there was more union and consequently 
more strength, and the petition was pre- 
sented under more favorable auspices. 
Although opposed by the strenuous ef- 
forts and influence of three towns, the 
charter was granted in December, 182s. 
judge Nesmith wrote the charter and 
gave the town its name. The three op- 
posing towns at the June session, 1829, 

asked thai the several tracts of territory 
taken horn them should be restored. 
An order of notice was obtained for a 
hearing of this subject, returnable at 
June session, 1^830. To the legislature 
of that year Mr. Nesmith was elected 
to represent the young town, and advo- 
cate the inviolability of its territory. 
The struggle came on in June. The 
first hearing was before the committee 
on towns and parishes, of which Hon. 
Franklin Pierce was chairman. The 
committee, by a majority of one. report- 
ed adverse!}' to the towns ; but their re- 
port, after a long and well contested de- 
bate, was rejected by the house, by two 
majority. The territory taken from 
Northrield was restored to her on a 
final vote, the matter being settled by 
the casting vote of the speaker. Twenty- 
six years afterwards this disputed terri- 
tory, with more added, was quietly 
ceded to Franklin. His first legislative 
experience was arduous and repulsive 
to Mr. Nesmith, and by the division of 
the town he saw his majority fade away. 
However, he entered into the canvass 
of 1 S3 1 with vigor, and had the satis- 
faction of being reelected by a majority 
of fifty — an increased majority over 
that of the previous election. Judge 
Nesmith represented Franklin in the 
legislature in 1S32, 1S34, 1835, 1836, 
1838, 1839, r ^44> I ^45, 1846. 1847, 
1854, 1 87 1 and 1S72 ; and was a mem- 
ber of the constitutional convention in 
1S50 and 1 85 1. 

From the first, he took advanced 
grounds on the subject of extending the 
system of railroads through the state 
and in granting to them the right of 
way, which was for a long time bitterly 
contested. From its organization in 
1845 he has been actively interested in 
the Northern railroad, having been a 
director on every board, and for eight 
years president of the corporation. In 
1852 and 1853 he became interested in 
manufacturing in the village of Frank- 
lin, and was an owner and director in 
the woolen factory, destroyed by fire in 

December 31, 1859, he was appoint- 
ed one of the judges of the supreme 
judicial court, which responsible trust 


he exercised until October. 1870, when, 
ha\ ing reached the age of seventy years, 
the constitution of the state relieved 
him from further duty. The last term 
of court over which he presided lie 
brought to a close on the day before his 
seventieth birthday. 

In the cause of education, and es- 
pecially in Dartmouth College, his alma 
mater, in all its departments, he has 
ever been deeply interested. Since 
1 85 8, he has been a trustee of that ven- 
erable institution ; since 1870. a trustee 
of the New Hampshire agricultural col- 
lege ; since 1S77, its president. 

In 187 1, Dartmouth College con- 
ferred upon him the degree of LL. d. 
The incorporation and establishment of 
the New Hampshire orphan's home i